What’s Going On Special: Insecurity in Nigeria 

Posted on by Melony Akpoghene

The last two weeks have been very tough in Nigeria, as the country reckons with a flurry of distressing news that continues to multiply, from kidnappings to killings and raids. Security concerns in Nigeria are, tragically, not new.  But the scale of violence has not let up; instead, things have gotten worse over the past few decades. 

Recorded data indicates that the number of people killed by bandits or insurgents in the first half of 2025 has already exceeded the total fatalities recorded in all of 2024. The situation is so unpredictable that non-essential travel to nearly all states is advised against, citing risks of terrorism, armed attacks, and communal clashes. 

While these armed groups are not always directly connected, they appear to be taking advantage of the same security weaknesses that increase their impact, whilst also overwhelming local and national forces. The North has long been an epicentre of this insecurity, but recent attacks suggest that insecurity is spreading to other parts of the country. The last 10 days have seen a surge of violent incidents, which we take a closer look at below.

 

25 Schoolgirls Abducted in Kebbi State

In the early hours of Monday, 17 November 2025, gunmen stormed the dormitory area of Government Girls Comprehensive Secondary School, Maga, located in the town of Maga in Kebbi State, North-Western Nigeria, and abducted 25 schoolgirls from the facility. 

During the raid, the school’s Vice-Principal, Malam Hassan Yakubu Makuku, was reportedly killed while trying to resist the attackers, and at least one other staff member was wounded. Local sources allege that the gunmen were heavily armed and managed to breach the school fence, avoiding immediate containment by on-site security. The victims were reportedly taken into the surrounding bush and forests. Emerging reports confirm that two of the girls have returned. According to Principal Musa Rabi Magaji, one evaded capture during the initial breach, while the second fled custody hours later, arriving home late on Monday.

Kebbi State Governor Nasir Idris visited the affected school on the day of the attack, assuring teachers and families that security agencies were intensifying efforts to locate and recover the missing students. Chief of Army Staff, Lieutenant-General Waidi Shaibu, also directed troops to launch intelligence-led, round-the-clock operations to track those responsible. Following these orders, troops began continuous maneuvers towards suspected hideouts, but were reportedly met with a coordinated ambush. Footage recorded after the clash showed injured soldiers lying on the ground without immediate medical support, and their vehicle appeared to be visibly marked by heavy gunfire.

The blueprint for this abduction was set in 2014, when the Boko Haram abducted 276 schoolgirls from Chibok. The bandits of the northwest have since then ruthlessly continued with that model. Since 2014, at least 1,500 students have been reported kidnapped from their schools. In February 2018, Boko Haram kidnapped about 110 students from the Government Girls Science Technical College in Dapchi, where several victims died, and Leah Sharibu remained in captivity. By 2020, Katsina saw hundreds more abducted in Kankara and Dandume. Raids became routine in 2021, hitting schools in Jangebe, Afaka, Niger, Kebbi, and Kaduna, with further attacks in 2023 and 2024 across Nasarawa, Zamfara, Ekiti, Kaduna, and Sokoto.

Northern Nigeria continues to be hollowed out by these bandits who operate from fortified camps in ungoverned forests. They have effectively replaced state authority in many rural areas, imposing taxes, pillaging villages, and, lucratively, kidnapping for ransom. The Kebbi raid followed a brutal sequence in Niger State’s Mashegu district, where 16 vigilantes were executed and 42 residents seized, just two days prior. The violence compounded over the weekend in Zamfara: gunmen stormed Fegin Baza on Saturday, killing three people and abducting 64, before targeting Tsohuwar Tasha on Sunday to snatch another 14 people, mostly women and children.

 

Livestream from Church in Kwara State Captures Vicious Attack

Along with news of the kidnapping of young school girls in Kebbi State came another harrowing reminder of the ongoing armed conflicts across the country, with two lives being lost and one person injured during a terrorist attack in Kwara State. 

On Tuesday, November 18th 2025, there was a terrorist attack on the Christ Apostolic Church (CAC), Oke Isegun, in Eruku, Ekiti Local Government Area of Kwara State. Per a live stream from inside the church, posted by Sahara Reporters, armed bandits stormed the church during a gathering, reportedly resulting in the deaths of two people.  One victim, Mr Aderemi, was found inside the church, while another, Mr Tunde Asaba Ajayi, was discovered in a nearby bush with gunshot wounds. Another person was also reportedly shot and hospitalised at ECWA Hospital, Eruku. 

Although not formally confirmed by the police, several worshippers were reportedly abducted during the incident, raising fears of an escalating kidnapping trend in the area. In response, the government has stepped up security in schools across Ifelodun, Ekiti, Irepodun, Isin, and Oke Ero Local Government Areas, part of a broader effort to protect students. Authorities said the move aims to prevent kidnappers from exploiting children as shields against security operations.

ISWAP Claims Murder of Brigadier-General Musa Uba

The North East has remained an active theatre of Boko Haram’s splinter group, Islamic State West Africa Province (ISWAP). Throughout 2025, ISWAP has demonstrated a terrifying ability to survive and escalate its war against the Nigerian state. The group has moved beyond the ragtag hit-and-run tactics of the past, adopting sophisticated strategies that rival those of a conventional army.

Over the weekend,  ISWAP carried out one of its most audacious operations to date, ambushing a military convoy along the Damboa–Biu road in Borno State. The convoy, led by Brigadier General Musa Uba of the 25 Task Force Brigade, was returning from a routine patrol when gunmen opened fire. Four soldiers were killed during the attack, and the general was captured.  After capturing General Uba, ISWAP used his mobile phone to make a video call to a colleague before turning it off. They also released propaganda photos of him. The group later published an account via its Amaq bulletin, claiming they had interrogated and tortured the general before killing him.

The military initially dismissed reports of the general’s death, calling them false and urging the public to disregard unverified claims. However, evidence and eyewitness accounts quickly contradicted the official narrative, confirming that the senior officer had indeed been killed. ISWAP’s announcement went further, accusing the army of attempting to cover up the failed operation. This is the first time an extremist group in Nigeria has captured and executed a serving general on the frontline, a major escalation in a conflict now in its second decade. 

Another Abduction of An Undetermined Number of Schoolgirls in Niger State

Five days after the abduction of schoolgirls in Kebbi, another set of girls were taken on November 22 in Niger State, when gunmen raided St. Mary’s Private Catholic Secondary School in Papiri community, Agwara Local Government Area. Reports indicate that an unconfirmed number of students and teachers were abducted during the attack.

The Niger State Government acknowledged the incident in a statement released by the Secretary to the State Government, Abubakar Usman. According to him, authorities had already received intelligence pointing to increased security risks across parts of Niger North. Usman also noted that St. Mary’s School had reopened and resumed classes on its own, without informing the state or requesting official approval before bringing students back.

Community members who visited the school described the incident as a coordinated operation. Local officials floated figures suggesting more than 100 students and teachers were taken, but reports noted that the exact number remains uncertain. Community members said at least “more than a dozen” children were taken, yet none of the circulating estimates have been independently confirmed. 

13 Girls Abducted While Harvesting on Borno Farmland

Boko Haram (or an ISWAP faction) abducted 13 teenage girls from a farm in Huyim, Askira-Uba Local Government Area, Borno State. The girls, aged approximately 15 to 20, were working on farmland in Mussa District when they were taken. One girl escaped and made it back home, helping authorities piece together what happened. The Deputy Speaker of the Borno State House of Assembly, Abdullahi Askira, confirmed the abduction and called on security agencies to intensify efforts. According to a police statement, search-and-rescue operations involving the police, military, local vigilantes, and the Civilian Joint Task Force are ongoing. Meanwhile, residents in the area remain on edge, with some families reportedly relocating amid fears for their safety.

Officials Announce Recoveries in Niger and Kwara

On Sunday, November 23, President Bola Tinubu announced the return of 51 students from St. Mary’s Catholic School in Niger State and all 38 worshippers abducted in Eruku, Kwara State. In a post on his official X handle, he credited security forces for the recoveries and reaffirmed his commitment to protecting citizens nationwide.

The announcement offered no details on how the students or church members were recovered. Later, the Christian Association of Nigeria (CAN) provided further context. Bulus Dauwa Yohanna, CAN chairman in Niger State and Catholic Bishop of Kontagora Diocese, said many of the pupils had escaped between Friday and Saturday and quietly returned to their families. Because they did not return to school immediately, officials reached out to parents to confirm the students’ whereabouts. President Tinubu’s remarks did not mention the situation in Kebbi State, where the schoolgirls remain unaccounted for following Monday’s attack.

Mahvel Balances Introspection And Rhythmicity on “Wish U Well”

Posted on by The Native

Following the success of his reintroduction single “Baptism,” rising Afropop artist Mahvel returns with his latest release, “Wish U Well.” The record captures Mahvel at a pivotal moment, blending heartfelt lyricism with an energetic 123BPM groove designed for both emotional resonance and dancefloor euphoria. 

While “Baptism” reestablished Mahvel’s sonic identity, “Wish U Well” expands it, pairing vulnerability with rhythm and emotion with movement. The song reflects Mahvel’s ability to craft Afropop that is as introspective as it is infectious, bridging the gap between reflection and release. “I wanted a record that feels alive,” Mahvel says about the song. “Something that speaks to love, temptation, and consequence but still makes you move.”

 

The single’s official artwork, hand-drawn and painted by Emily Rose, took over 50 hours to complete and visually mirrors the song’s emotional core. Known for her ability to create visual representations of music, Emily describes the piece as an exploration of “the tension between desire and consequence.” 

At the center of the artwork sits a woman on a throne, beckoning a man forward, a visual metaphor for choice and consequence. Surrounding them are symbols of temptation and tenderness: a bitten apple, a wilting flower, blooming orchids, and a carved heart. It all represents the fragile humanity within “Wish U Well.” Beyond its standalone beauty, the artwork tells a continuous visual story, connecting Mahvel’s earlier single “Baptism” to his forthcoming project, ‘Kids These Days.’ Together, these visuals trace the emotional evolution of Mahvel’s artistry: from rebirth, to reckoning, to reflection. 

The NATIVE’s First Impressions of Tems’ ‘Love Is A Kingdom’

Posted on by The Native

The surprise drop has become a definitive status symbol within the music industry. Popularised by Beyoncé’s self-titled 2013 release, this strategy has been widely adopted by other A-listers, capitalising on their star power to prove that a successful project can be launched without a conventional promotional campaign. In recent months, Kendrick Lamar’s ‘GNX,’ Justin Bieber’s ‘Swag,’ and Tyler, the Creator’s ‘Don’t Tap the Glass,’ have all emerged unannounced, suggesting the strategy is back in fashion. 

In the early hours of this morning, Tems added her name to this illustrious list, as a new 7-track EP titled ‘Love Is A Kingdom’ appeared on streaming platforms without prior announcement or fanfare. The sudden arrival of the project marks a significant moment for the Grammy-winning singer, as she looks to build on the success of her previous work and offer a deeper exploration of her signature blend of soulful R&B and Afropop influences.

 

WHAT WERE YOUR EXPECTATIONS OF TEMS GOING INTO THIS EP? 

Melony: These days I don’t know what to expect from Tems. ‘Born in the Wild’ had moments where it lagged for me, so I was in full anticipatory mode, waiting to see what direction she would choose next. 

Michelle: Honestly, I had zero expectations, considering I’m not a fan of surprise releases. The anticipatory buildup before a project drops gives a sense of connection and expectation, which can positively influence its reception. Still, I hoped hers would change my belief.

Boluwatife: Seeing as she hadn’t released any music all year, and she had only done a couple of features, I honestly wasn’t sure what to expect. I guess that’s the inherent thrill and experience of surprise drops: you’re supposed to go in blind, without the bias of any marketing hype or pre-released singles. 

WHAT SONGS STOOD OUT ON THE FIRST LISTEN?

Michelle:  “Is There A Reason” easily resonated with me and it’ll be on replay. The guitar element was prominent throughout the record, and it made me imagine her on a song with Passenger. That aside, it’s the only solemnly emotive track on the project. 

Kofoworola: “Big Daddy” definitely stood out on first listen. It’s audacious, playful, and the visualizer just sealed the whole experience for me. The rhythm is impossible to ignore.

WHAT DO YOU THINK OF THE PRODUCTION ON THIS PROJECT?

Melony: The production on this EP is more adventurous. The opening tracks ride looping drum patterns that can feel a touch repetitive, but they set up the project’s soaring highs. “What You Need” is where it all clicks for me. The track’s slow-groove R&B hits all the sweet spots, making it easily the cutest record and the closest the EP comes to tapping into Tems’ frankness and the version of her that excelled at building immersive soundscapes.

Daniel: I feel like Tems has found what works for her it’s almost as if she wants you to know that every song is a Tems song without hearing a single lyric and it hits you just like that.

WHAT SONG HAS THE BIGGEST HIT POTENTIAL?

Boluwatife: This is arguably the most upbeat project she’s put out so there’s potential for a number of these new tracks to pop off. But if i was to choose one, I’ll probably go for “What You Need,” one of the project’s more downtempo cuts. It sounds like a Tems classic already and feels like a song that’ll have more staying power than some of the more bouncy tracks that might initially grab attention or gain virality. 

Shina: Hmm, “I’m Not Sure”. Haha, see what I did there. Okay so it’s a very hard pick but I’m going with “I’m Not Sure”. A lot of the songs in this surprise drop are pretty up-tempo and that’s very surprising to be honest. Especially, if I compare with her previous EPs. Another good shout is “Big Daddy,” I think this might go viral. 

 

OVERALL FIRST IMPRESSIONS

Melony: The EP is a blithe, uncomplicated project and I appreciate the freedom Tems clearly took. Of course, I also wish she had bitten harder into the meat of its themes and been more emotionally honest; so much of the groundwork is there, but she stops just shy of committing fully to it.

Daniel: For a surprise drop, I had a great time with it. It was a casual listening experience and a great addition to her discography I loved that it had no features too made the whole project feel personal and free.

Michelle: I waited for the moment to connect with the EP and it happened with the last two songs, which makes me conclude that it would have been an immersive experience if “What You Need,” and “Is There A Reason” opened the EP and the uptempo songs came after. Regardless, it’s an okay project, the type that’ll grow on you with multiple listens.

South African Women To Make Stand Against Gender-Based Violence With National Shutdown

Posted on by Boluwatife Adeyemi

In a unified and drastic effort to highlight and combat South Africa’s rampant gender-based violence (GBV) epidemic, women across the Southern African country will participate in a national shutdown on November 21, 2025. 

This action, which involves ceasing all forms of work, both paid and unpaid, is spearheaded by Women for Change, a non-profit organisation advocating for the constitutional rights of South African women and children. The organisation has revealed that the goal of the shutdown is to force a national reckoning with the crisis and demand concrete, effective governmental action and societal transformation to end the violence. 

Set to take place just before the prestigious G20 Summit, the protest precedes a historic event: South Africa’s first time hosting the global economic forum. The summit will bring together heads of state, international investors, and policy influencers to discuss key topics like economic growth, trade, and sustainability. 

 

As such, the forthcoming protest has been tagged the “G20 Women’s Shutdown,” signalling not just a protest against prevailing economic inequalities, but a direct, targeted call for policymakers gathered at the G20 to prioritise gender equality and address the systemic issues affecting women’s economic participation and safety in the host country.

The organisation’s ongoing protest, visually centred on the colour purple, has for months highlighted the country’s alarming femicide rates. The South African Police Service (SAPS) reports that in the country, a woman is murdered every 2.5 hours, and the perpetrator is frequently someone known to the victim. 

Consequently, the colour has evolved into a symbol of united resistance, embraced by figures ranging from celebrities to major corporations and even prominent landmarks in South Africa. Women for Change urges all women and members of the LGBTQI+ community in South Africa to participate in the protest. Those outside the country can contribute to online visibility by changing their profile picture to purple and using the hashtag #WomenShutdown to spread awareness. 

L’Oréal Professionnel Teams Up With Orange Culture For ‘A Letter to Her’

Posted on by Wale Oloworekende

At the recent Lagos Fashion Week 2025, L’Oréal Professionnel, the professional haircare division of the global beauty group L’Oréal, collaborated with fashion house Orange Culture. The collection, ‘A Letter to Her,’ was a deeply personal reflection by Orange Culture’s creative director, Adebayo Oke-Lawal, serving as a tribute to womanhood, memory, and strength. It explored the complementary narratives between fashion and hair, translating personal emotion into bold, wearable artistry

To complement the runway presentation, L’Oréal Professionnel applied its expertise in professional haircare, treating and styling the models’ hair ahead of the show using the Absolut Repair Molecular range and Absolut Repair 10-in-1 Oil. This helped transform their hair into a vital component of the overall runway aesthetic, complementing the clothes nicely to deliver the collection’s message. 

Beyond the runway, this collaboration underscored L’Oréal Professionnel’s growing recognition as a truly diverse brand that understands and celebrates the beauty of every hair texture. By offering tailored professional care solutions designed specifically for the needs and diverse hair textures of Nigerian women, the brand effectively demonstrates that high-quality, professional-grade hair care is accessible to everyone.

This forthcoming Black Friday, you can shop all L’Oréal Professionnel products on Beauty Hut and enjoy 20% off everything, including the star product, the Absolut Repair 10-in-1 Oil.

Show Dem Camp Wants You to See the Magic in African Art

Posted on by Melony Akpoghene

“They said the gods came back in human form,” Tec spits over the slow piano strokes of “Libations,” leaving ample room for speculation that he and Ghost might be the very gods being alluded to. Given Show Dem Camp’s standing, such a claim wouldn’t feel entirely misplaced or unearned. They possess the track record to justify the conceit. However, Tec deftly pivots from the apparent boast, explaining that the sentiment stems from a deeper reverence for the lineage of African creators and a recognition of the divine gift of creation.

“The consistent truth across all religions is that God is the Creator,” Tec explains to NATIVE Mag. “That, to me, is one of the most beautiful things about music or any form of art. You can walk into a studio with a producer or another artist, and at that moment, nothing exists. But by the time you leave, you’ve created something new. If that creation goes on to be released and connects with people, it travels around the world, carrying your voice and your message.”

This alchemical act of creation, of conjuring substance from the void, is the central thesis of ‘Afrika Magik,’ Show Dem Camp’s new album. The project is an explicit homage to the self-sustainability of African art expressed through the vehicle of the pioneers of Nollywood, “those who created an entire industry from nothing,” as Tec says. Its album art, the skits, and the cinematic scope of the production all draw from that well. The African music scene, like  Nollywood, willed itself into relevance and influence through an unrelenting belief in its own magic.

One of the most wonderful things about ‘Afrika Magik’ is that it reveals SDC to be deeply self-aware. They’ve always been attuned to the weight of identity, but here they confront it head-on. Existing as a colonized people still structurally enmeshed within the colony compels a persistent gravitation toward whiteness, and this manifests in the disavowal of everything that makes us not just Black, but distinctly African. Too often, pride in African art feels deferred until it’s been validated by Western institutions. But SDC has built their entire career in opposition to this framework, asserting that African creativity is intrinsically valuable. 

This has been the bedrock of all their work. The ‘Palmwine Music’ series, which grew into a full-blown festival, was born from this exact interrogation. “For us, ‘Palmwine Music’—and later, Palmwine Music Festival—was inspired by a trip we took to the United States,” Tec recalls. “We went to places like Bed-Stuy in Brooklyn and Compton and felt familiar with them because [American] Hip-Hop had shown us its lifestyle.” 

This galvanized their mandate to create a reciprocal cultural reflection. Tec adds, “Growing up, we’d always hear about things like Moet and Hennessy in songs, but we thought, ‘How do we make our own, innately African things cool?’ The only way to do that was to represent them proudly.” They succeeded. Now with ‘Afrika Magik,’ they’re simply doubling down, pushing that project forward with an album that is a panoramic document of sound, ancestry, and, above all, spiritual vigilance.

 

By now, Show Dem Camp is a canon unto themselves. Every cool Hip-Hop head you know has some SDC in their library. If you’re Alté, you already get points; if you’re Alté and also rep SDC, you just might be the coolest kid on the block. The duo has long joined those responsible for ferrying Nigerian rap from a forum for technical exhibitionism into a vehicle for densely-textured, hyperlocal storytelling. On Afrika Magik, their Afropop-indebted sonics are now just one layer. The framework is augmented with new synth textures and drum programming that operate with their own logic, running parallel to the emcees’ bars. 

This is the sound of them pushing all their artistic chips to the center of the table. “The beauty of Spax’s production is that he’s able to create memorable sounds that are familiar with a fresh twist,” says Ghost. “With this new project, we really tried to expand our palette. We wanted to capture elements from across Africa.” That sense of expansion is very palpable. They moved beyond the Highlife-Hip-Hop collision of ‘Palmwine’ and the live instrumentation of their past work with The Cavemen. and Nsikak David, ‘No Love in Lagos,’ to incorporate more genres of Black music. 

 

On “You Get Me,” perennial collaborator Tems drapes her gauzy vocals over the sunlit Highlife groove. “Spellbound” downshifts into a neo-soul arrangement that gives Lusanda’s rich tones the proper space to bruise. “Pele” finds Winny gliding atop crisp rhythms steeped in vintage reggae. American R&B singer Mereba guests on the midtempo “Masterkey,” with its unassuming bass and gentle wafts of synth padding. “Small Chops and Champers” is a perfect piece of titling: the Ajebutter22-assisted track maintains the spirit of an adventure-filled montage and bottles the breezy energy of a perfect night out. 

The entrancing “Magik” is one of the album’s sickest jams, and it flits about with slick, loose verses from South Africa’s eclectic Moonchild Sanelly. Tec recounts the session as highly memorable. “It was spontaneous, full of energy, and reflective of her big personality.” The collaboration became a crucial learning moment for SDC. Watching Sanelly’s approach pushed them toward structural experimentation, moving past the rigid templates of the genre. “The track doesn’t have the typical eight-bar intro, sixteen-bar verse, or eight-bar chorus that most Hip-Hop tracks stick to,” Tec says. “It just flows organically. When we were recording, whoever felt inspired would jump in, and it all came together naturally.”

Beyond the soundscape, the lyrical foundation remains rock-solid. “We also challenged ourselves to expand our lyricism and to tell different stories,” Ghost admits. Every moment on the album is meticulously considered as SDC conjoins intricate rhyme schemes into a labyrinth of dazzling wordplay and fluid run-ons. They know their audience. “We know that people want to vibe and all,” Tec chips in, “but we’re doing this for the people who actually want to hear great lines.” With Ghost flexing on “Small Chops and Champers,” “But now, I am lion-hearted / I don gather small pride,” and teasing on “Italawa,” “hairline shaky, beard gang like Gandalf,” the album is filled to the brim with humour, shifty turns of phrase, syrupy hooks, and tender professions of love. Indeed, it wouldn’t be an SDC album without the regaling of a love interest, and ‘Afrika Magik’ provides this in spades, balancing its high-minded concepts with the grounded, relatable anxieties of modern relationships.

 

‘Afrika Magik’ is a project that is just as much a direct, pressing response to the anxieties of right now. And perhaps no anxiety is more potent or quickly escalating than the proliferation of Artificial Intelligence. Nigerian-British comedian Ayoade Bamgboye, whose commentary threads through the project’s skits, cautions in “White Juju”: “White juju is AI, and they need to unplug that thing before it kills us all.”

“Imagine going to meet a babalawo and he goes inside the hut and asks AI for the solution,” Tec jokes. The line gets a laugh, but the point is deadly serious. AI has bled into every corner of the human experience, replacing real connection with machine-generated simulacra. “People are going to AI for love, advice, companionship,” he grouses. But the leak from the interpersonal into the creative realm is where the album’s concern rests, and the music industry is ground zero. We’ve witnessed the grotesque digital minstrelsy of the synthetic rapper FN Meka and the industry-wide panic following “Heart on My Sleeve,” the “Ghostwriter” track that used AI to create an unnervingly perfect Drake and The Weeknd doppelgänger. More recently, Xania Monet, an AI-generated R&B “artist” performing human-written songs, broke into the Billboard Adult R&B Airplay charts, reaching No. 30 and racking up tens of millions of streams.  

Music, for Show Dem Camp, has always been a social organism, something that grows only when it’s fed by many hands. While a good rap beef can be creatively fertile, the sustained desire to join forces is what builds a genuine scene. In other words, both Ghost and Tec believe collaboration to be the bloodstream of the culture. They’ve repurposed their platform as an incubator, consistently anointing a new class of collaborators. “I think our story will be told by others when it’s all said and done,” Tec says. “But if I were to describe how I’d like us to be seen, it would be as artists who created a platform that great minds could build on.” 

In that sense, ‘Afrika Magik’ is their most generous project yet. Within its 17 tracks, they curate an even broader African tribe; the expansion is particularly notable in its inclusion of more women. “I think the interesting thing about this project is that, for most of our previous work, across the entire ‘Palmwine’ and ‘The Clone Wars’ series, we probably collaborated with only about six female artists in total,” Ghost notes. “On this single project alone, however, we have six women featured.” The duo sees legacy as a widening circle of possibilities, not just a tally of individual accolades. Tec lays this out perfectly: “For years, we prayed we would win a Grammy. Then last year, I was at the Grammys with Tems when she won hers. That moment was a realization that sometimes the dream doesn’t have to be fulfilled by you directly.” It’s a perspective that consciously locks them into a continuum, a “rich lineage,” he explains, one passed down from “legends like 2Baba, D’banj, and the Mo’Hits crew” who shared the same dream, but paved the way for the artists who came after them to achieve it. “I just hope we’re able to build on it and carry it forward,” he finishes.

Shona Celebrates Identity And Faith On “Psalm 23”

Posted on by The Jide Taiwo

Nigerian-born rapper, Boma Beddie-Memberr, also known as Shona, is fusing scripture with rhythm. She’s a drummer as well, and might be Gospel Rap’s best-kept secret. She’s taking on a creative approach to songwriting; it feels like a sermon on a beat. She is reimagining Christian music and unafraid to blend scripture with Hip-Hop. Shona’s “Psalm 23” brings a new sound into the mix, delivering scripture with melody, conviction, and rhythmic pulse. The intro section is a subtle yet profound conversation. It feels like a proverb, painting a picture of having a choice but choosing to follow God; speaking truth that moves you beyond dance to reflection.

The moment her first bar drops, “I boast  in The Lord, Shepherd of my soul, smooth sailing, anchor of my soul, reckless love,” it’s clear this is more than just another faith-inspired track.  Shona digs into rhythm and cadence, giving the song a storytelling edge.

From verse to verse, “Psalm 23” captures a journey of redemption and renewal, and makes one reflect on the story of the biblical prodigal son. The linee, “Was lost, now found/By a Beauty unmatched,” instantly establish a narrative of transformation, resonating deeply with themes of spiritual revival and personal awakening.

The clever allusion to “BeRevived” is a reference to Bill Johnson’s Instagram handle actually. The repeated call to “follow me” invites listeners into an intimate, communal experience of faith and growth. Shona is acting as a disciple here, like referencing ‘come and see’. The metaphor of the “yellow brick road” as a path leading “home” beautifully blends cultural references with the idea of a spiritual homecoming, emphasizing belonging and the promise of a brighter journey ahead. This verse’s lyrical sincerity and evocative imagery make it an engaging highlight that connects authentically with diverse global audiences.

Shona’s approach to scripture in her music is rare and fresh, standing out for how she seamlessly blends biblical text with contemporary Hip-Hop. Rather than simply quoting scripture, she channels it with dynamic flow and emotive storytelling, drawing listeners into a deeper engagement with the text. Her delivery acts as an invitation, not to replace scripture reading, but to encourage people to encounter the original passages themselves on a personal level. This method respects the sacredness of scripture while creatively making it accessible to a wider audience, especially listeners who resonate with rap music.

What makes Shona’s sound particularly compelling is her ability to balance reverence with the Hip-Hop sound. The result is a musical experience where listeners are inspired not just to enjoy the track but to go back to the Bible for their own personal study and connection. Shona’s work opens a space where faith and culture meet, making scripture a living, breathing source of inspiration that encourages active spiritual engagement rather than substitution.

Looking into Shona’s recent releases “Psalm 23” and “Psalm 16,” there is a distinctive feature of having only one verse coupled with a memorable hook. This is a strategic artistic choice that effectively enhances a listener’s engagement. By focusing primarily on crafting a catchy hook, she creates an anchor for the song’s message that listeners can easily grasp and recall. This hook acts as the core emotional and theological statement, making sure the essence of the message is instantly accessible and widely memorable.

Meanwhile, the verse functions as a powerful bridge, providing depth and narrative weight, offering reflective storytelling that draws listeners further into the song without overwhelming them with lengthy lyrical content. This balance ensures the song remains both radio-friendly and spiritually substantial, striking a harmonious line between artistry and accessibility.

If we can critically look at this, Shona’s use of the verse as a bridge that ‘hooks’ the audience reinforces the potency of the hook itself, making her faith-infused music both compelling and impactful across diverse audiences. Shona’s “Psalm 23” is positioned as an invitation to embrace scripture, celebrate identity, and allow faith to speak in a unique way.

Listen to “Psalm 23″ here

Meet Khenny: The Effortless African Lifestyle Brand Bridging Culture and Play

Posted on by The Native

Style moves fluidly in Lagos, but what happens when it acquires a foreign edge, becoming a product of conversations between the motherland and its teeming diaspora? That’s the question that Khenny, a new African luxury brand, is seeking to answer in a world that keeps shrinking and becoming increasingly intertwined. 

Fresh off its intimate pre-launch event held during Lagos Fashion Week, Khenny is aspiring to redefine what African lifestyle and luxury can look like. Founded by Adeola Bakre, the brand captures the duality of life between worlds, blending culture, comfort, and effortless style.

The debut collection brought together creators and influencers across the diaspora, each embodying Khenny’s signature spirit: grounded, playful, and globally rooted. From the scarf hats to the Ilashe tanks, every piece feels like a nod to heritage with a modern ease that just makes sense.

A twin, Adeola Bakre, had long nurtured the dream of creating a brand that could resonate with African audiences and members of the wider diaspora. The idea for Khenny came to her after seeing two birds on her balcony that she named Taiwo and Kehinde, after herself and her brother, kickstarting the Khenny vision. 

 

At the heart of Khenny is a story of duality, something that runs through everything we do. Khenny is the short form of Kehinde, a name traditionally given to the second-born twin in Yoruba culture. That sense of duality isn’t just central to the brand’s name, it’s woven into the fabric of its operational ethos. At Khenny, the aim is to celebrate contrasts, balancing them to create something that’s both powerful and deeply personal.

As part of Khenny’s debut collection, there are specially curated tank tops, tote bags, and scarf hats that celebrate a new generation of African expression while staying true to the brand’s mission of bridging culture and play. 

Pre-order the debut collection here. 

How Uzo Njoku’s ‘An Owambe Exhibition’ Stirred a Reckoning on Tribalism

Posted on by Ashabi Azeez

When Uzo Njoku, popularly known as UzoArt, announced her Owambe Exhibition in August, it was meant to be a homecoming, a love letter to Lagos. She imagined it as a celebration wrapped in fabric, patterns, color, and nostalgia. After years of showing in New York and Washington, D.C., the Nigerian-born visual artist wanted to return with something that felt inclusive, loud, and familiar. It was to channel a visual celebration where art, music, fashion, and the spirit of a Lagos weekend met.

However, on social media, the announcement didn’t land as an impressive innovation. It was viewed as a provocation. Within hours, Uzo’s name began to trend. Her exhibition posters, featuring her signature Ankara-inspired motifs, were torn apart and analyzed in a negative light. Tweets accused her of appropriating Yoruba culture, others called her an outsider trying to profit off heritage, and petitions emerged demanding the cancellation of her show. What began as a creative statement quickly morphed into a digital war zone with hashtags, quote-tweets, and digital attacks that exposed an uglier underlying issue within Nigeria’s online community, tribalism.

In the days that followed, Uzo was called names, doxxed, slut-shamed, and digitally dragged for daring to title her show after a Yoruba cultural expression. “They tried to make me beg,” she tells NATIVE Mag, adding that she realized it wasn’t really about the show anymore, but about control. Njoku’s experience mirrors something much larger than a single controversy. It’s a reflection of how, in Nigeria’s internet space, tribalism has been emboldened to become both a weapon and a wound.

In August 2025, UzoArt shared her vision, a solo homecoming exhibition in Lagos, running from November 23 to January 24. She explained her long-term frustrations, stating that two years earlier, she had returned to Nigeria for a show only to discover local buyers were hesitant to invest in her gallery-priced work despite her success abroad. She resolved to bring art closer to Nigerians, not just to galleries, but to work on fabrics, patterns, immersive installations, and merchandise that people could touch, wear, and own.

However, the moment she revealed the name, “An Owambe Exhibition,” the backlash erupted. Owambe is a Yoruba slang for elaborate parties. Critics accused her of appropriating Yoruba culture, trying to erase heritage, and mixing up Igbo insignia with Yoruba fabrics, and deploying clever subversion masked as art. The Yoruba Progressive Elites Forum (YPEF) threatened to file for a court injunction. A petition circulated on social media demanded the cancellation of the show. Some even claimed she was embedding coded symbols of separatist ideology. 

In the days that followed, notable names began to spring up, appearing to endorse the criticism. Lagos’ Oba Rilwan Akiolu reportedly issued a denunciation, calling the show a “disrespect” to Yoruba heritage and promising to mobilize against it. The letter of disapproval had been posted on X by Lagospidia, an account known for making and promoting tribally motivated posts. The palace later denied direct involvement but confirmed that tensions existed. For Uzo, what was meant to be a joyous return now looked like chaos.

Once the backlash hit, Uzo says the vitriol came fast and brutal. “There were so many people calling me monkey, animalistic, reducing me, wanting me to beg,” she reveals. “They tried to scapegoat me for political [rhetoric], they’ve tried to humble me.”

 

Going further, Njoku shared how the attacks touched deeper corners. “They put out articles saying I’m an IPOB terrorist, generating AI nudes of me and spreading them,” she sayss. “Thousands of people stormed my Google page to input one star, tarnishing my image at home and abroad.” The volume and intensity of the malice proved that it wasn’t just disagreement. Uzo says it highlighted how easily social media can become a weapon for tribal gatekeeping. She was not simply criticized; she was dehumanized.

Uzo’s experience is not an isolated event. It fits into a broader pattern where Nigeria’s digital space is rife with tribalism. Many Nigerians on social media operate within ideologies that reinforce ethnic loyalty. A creative who ventures outside their tribe risks being called a traitor, or worse, an appropriator. This policing is especially aggressive when cultural symbols are involved.

When Uzo’s show was announced, some social media users claimed she intended to “rebrand” Yoruba heritage into Igbo symbolism. An X user named Ariremako accused her of combining Yoruba textiles with Biafran flag colours. Such narratives stick precisely because they tap into the bitter history of cultural erasure in Nigeria

Digital mobs wield disproportionate power. Petitions, legal threats, and spurious palace statements are amplified when social media users rally. In Uzo’s case, YPEF threatened court injunctions, while traditional rulers like Omotooyosi Akinleye, the Olukosi of Ilukosi-Ijesa in Osun State, mobilized vows of collective sanctions. The overarching problem with this kind of attack in the artistic sphere is the real cost it imposes. Artists may avoid cross-ethnic exploration or cultural fusion for fear of being attacked. In that sense, online tribalism becomes a form of creative censorship.

It doesn’t help matters that the insults, doxxing, and smear campaigns bleed into real life, affecting reputations, mental well-being, funding, and security. Uzo shared that she’s had to expand her budget for protection, having to pay for private security, DSS, and police protection.

Despite the storm, Uzo remains committed to the show, though she admits she’s had to make changes. One of the most significant shifts is that the show is no longer entirely free entry. Instead, access is tied to purchasing a piece of her fabric collection and an online registration. Her team is building a system to manage that process. 

“There’s a new system where attendees will have to buy fabric from my collection to be allowed in at the entrance,” she explained. “For those who want to get free fabric, you will have to upload details that show that you are a creative on the website.”

Security concerns, death threats, and logistical risk forced her hand. Nonetheless, in her view, this compromise is better than cancellation. She wants to hold onto the spirit of inclusivity. The exhibition will be immersive, vibrant, and accessible in multiple ways: spotlighting paintings, wearable art, fabrics, merchandise, installations, and walk-in experiences. 

This crisis has sharpened UzoArt’s vigilance. She’s more aware now of how titles, textiles, and iconography might be misread through tribal optics. But she also rejects shrinking her vision. The show remains rooted in the ideal of a Nigerian melting pot she believes Lagos embodies.

 

To fully grasp the current landscape, one must come to terms with the fact that tribalism in Nigeria is more of a feature than a bug, albeit debilitating. Nigeria’s history is rife with ethnic tension, from political appointments to regional imbalances. Digital tribalism is a microcosm of the age-long one practiced in the country. On platforms like X, the pace is daily, and content is immediately judged through a tribal filter. 

Conversations are increasingly devoid of nuance. Once a creative is flagged as belonging to ‘the wrong tribe,’ most subsequent comments shift from art to identity. That shift is where tribalism does its worst work. When “An Owambe Exhibition” crosses this phase, it might do more than open a show. It could become a push towards fostering the growth of art away from tribal antagonism disguised as culture preservation. 

As it is, Uzo Njoku’s upcoming exhibition has gone beyond embodying the features of an average art show. It represents proof of how deeply divided Nigeria’s online spaces have become and how fragile public conversations around identity can be. Yet, it also shows the persistence of artists who continue to create in spite of noise, fear, and hostility.

Njerae Is Rewriting The East African R&B Story

Posted on by Tela Wangeci

If 2025 has proven anything, it’s that Njerae’s moment has truly arrived. From signing with Universal Music Group to releasing her sophomore EP, ‘Four Letter Word,’ in February 2025, and becoming Spotify’s EQUAL ambassador, Njerae has spent the year charting new territory for East African R&B and Afropop.

While some might call her recent wins an overnight success, her journey tells a very different story. With over 10 years in the Kenyan music scene, Njerae’s rise is built on discipline, consistency, and quiet conviction. From her early days at Sauti Academy (then mentored by Sauti Sol) to her time at the Perform Incubator led by Muthoni Drummer Queen, she has sharpened her craft into something both soulful and intentional, and her ‘Four Letter Word (Deluxe)’ release is proof of that evolution.

Today, Njerae’s catalog reads like a slow burn toward mastery, boasting a digital footprint of over 10 million streams for “Aki Sioni,” nearly 5 million for “OTD,” and a growing community of more than 245,000 monthly Spotify listeners. 

 

Her sound continues to expand beyond borders, with Nigeria standing as her second-largest market and the UK among her top 10, cementing her as one of the few Kenyan R&B acts resonating across continents. The ‘Four Letter Word (Deluxe)’ is more than just an extended project; it’s a reflection of how far Njerae’s sound has traveled. The deluxe version sees her leaning further into global textures, stretching R&B into Afro-House, Amapiano, and stripped-down Soul while keeping her pen sharp and her stories deeply personal.

We caught up with Njerae to unpack the creative decisions behind ‘Four Letter Word (Deluxe)’ and understand her growth as both an artist and critical voice in East Africa’s blossoming R&B scene.

You’ve just dropped the deluxe edition of ‘Four Letter Word.’ Why did you feel this project needed a second chapter?

In a way, the deluxe felt like closure. I originally wrote ‘Four Letter Word,’ with the concept of love in its vulnerable and pure state. After releasing it, I have felt growth and processed new vaults in life. The deluxe is me coming back to love not just as a feeling but as a choice. I have grown, and there is a reflection of a soft kind of power in love. 

What prompted your shift from independence to joining Universal Music Group?

I have always wanted to be independent, but artistry comes with evolution. Signing with Universal Music Group wasn’t about giving up my power as an artist but expanding my reach. I also wanted to build a team that understood my vision, and I saw that UMG has the potential not only to take East African R&B to a global scene but also to create an impact on my music. It’s still my story, but I get a bigger microphone

You recently performed at the first international edition of Blankets & Wine in the UK. What did that experience teach you about your craft and your audience abroad?

It was an amazing and memorable experience, I won’t lie. It reminded me that music travels. Guys in London were singing Swahili lyrics, and they knew each song. Basically, music doesn’t need language or translation. 

In June, you were named Spotify’s EQUAL ambassador, a program spotlighting women pushing boundaries in music. How do you use your platform to open doors for the next generation of female creators?

I believe representation matters, and I would want women to know it’s possible when they see me take this space. I am producing, writing, and performing. I want them to see themselves in me. I mentor and collaborate with lots of women around, and I hope that we can build a pipeline rather than a moment. I want more women to freely tell their stories regardless of where they come from. 

As an artist and storyteller, how do you use your voice to speak up for creators and preserve authenticity in digital music spaces?

It starts with being transparent about what the system looks like for artists, creators, and what needs to change. I like being fair and valuing artistry over virality. I try to keep my releases intentional and not just algorithmic. Music should be a feeling and not a format. 

 

Fashion has become an integral part of your aesthetic lately. When ‘Four Letter Word’ dropped, we saw you embracing earthy tones and soft silhouettes. How do you weave fashion and music together in your storytelling and personal expression?

Fashion, just like instrumentation, is an extension of music and sound. It’s how you make music visible. When I did the EP in February, the earth tones were to represent grounding and intimacy, and I have evolved since then, and so has my style. With the growth of my aesthetic, I am telling a story without words.. With every palette, tone, and texture, I am telling people about myself and what emotions I am feeling. 

You exist in a delicate R&B pocket that often leans on heartbreak and longing. How do you keep your themes fresh while staying emotionally honest?

I like to live first as a human, then write. Every time I think I have said everything about love or life, I pull away from conversations. I sit in silence and draw my own personal inspiration from how Nairobi feels to me in different seasons. The key is finding new ways to feel out loud. Just living as a person and allowing everything to flow.

Talking about “Decide (Remix),” the original version flirted with Amapiano, but the remix pushes deeper into Afro-House. Was that a conscious pivot or a product of creative experimentation?

I think it was both. When I revisited the original song, I felt the urge to make it more cathartic. There is a way music can speak to you, and it creates a moment of hypnosis. “Decide” was giving me Afro-House, and I decided to follow that route. I also really wanted to make people connect with it on the dancefloor without being introspective. It’s the same story just at a different tempo.

The deluxe includes two new tracks, “Gone” and “Colors.” What’s the story behind those records, and how do they complete the ‘Four Letter Word’ narrative?

“Gone” is about letting go of love that lingers, while “Colors” is the healing after all of that. It’s joyful, light, and a discovery. I felt that together they complete a whole circle as the deluxe begins with a heartbreak and ends with the peace of choosing yourself again, and that was the whole intention.

 

This body of work feels distinctly more international in production, tone, and energy. What story were you trying to tell through this evolution?

More than anything, I wanted to show that East African R&B can live and survive anywhere while being timeless and borderless. This time, as an artist, I feel it’s more about expanding myself and my reach. I am telling a story about myself in Nairobi, and I want the story to echo and relate to everyone around the world.

Listen to ‘Four Letter Word (Deluxe)’ here.

Qing Madi Joins Keith Sweat and Lil Wayne On “Working II”

Posted on by Wale Oloworekende

Rising Nigerian singer, Qing Madi, joined R&B star, Keith Sweat, and Lil Wayne on the remix of remix of his Sweat’sl single “Working,” unfurling an intercontinental collaboration that bridges classic R&B, Hip-Hop star power, and the new wave of Afropop

Originally released earlier this year, “Working” found Sweat wrestling with the complexities of love, that delicate tug-of-war between desire and distance. Over a smooth, emotionally rich production, he narrates the story of a man who takes two steps forward while his lover retreats three steps back, laying bare the struggle of convincing someone that you’re the right fit for them. 

 

The song’s theme of persistence in love resonated deeply, driven by Qing Madi’s youthful, soulful performance that injected African warmth into Sweat’s timeless vulnerability. With Lil Wayne stepping into the mix, the record evolves into something grander, a fusion of eras, genres, and emotions. Wayne’s verse brings a charismatic sharpness to the narrative, turning the record into a conversation between the unrelenting pursuit of love and the swagger of experience. 

Listen to “Working II” here. 

uNder: Best New Artists (October, 2025)

Posted on by The Native

The conversations that keep coming up during our daily newsroom more often than not revolve around platforming the music we love and the communities that surround its wider culture. Very regularly, the music that excites our team reflects The NATIVE’s vision of being a bastion of music from parts of Africa and the Black diaspora. There are exciting acts from the ever-evolving Nigerian music underground, rappers experimenting with Dance Music and Hip-Hop from South Africa, as well as emotive singers whose work blurs the boundary between Hip-Hop and R&B. 

Discovering these acts, being blown away by their skills, and sharing our community about them continues to excite us more than three years after we conceived this column as a platform to spotlight talents that represent all that’s exciting about African music. In a world where marketing budgets, ad spends, and PR placements continue to reshape the music landscape, uNder is still our way of raging against the system and spotlighting deserving acts whose works are vital to sustaining the creative spirit that makes African music indispensable. For our October entry, we have Monochrome, Esoterica, KKeda, and Y Celeb. This cohort is united by a thrilling sense of freewheeling experimentation that is sure to serve them well as their career progresses. We hope you enjoy discovering them half as much as we enjoyed listening to their music and writing about them. 

Monochrome

For Fans of: Seyi Vibez, Mavo, Danpapa GTA

A cursory glance at Monochrome’s Instagram page, and it’s pretty evident that the Abuja-born singer, songwriter and producer does not deal in subtlety. More often than not, he’s dressed in showy outfits that blend high fashion with streetwear influences, creating a visual spectacle that is captivating and, perhaps more importantly, mirrors and amplifies his equally flamboyant musical style and larger-than-life disposition. This eccentricity that courses through his music and sartorial choices has helped Monochrome, born Praise Echu, gradually emerge as one of the more exciting names to come out of the vibrant underground scene in recent months. 

Even though Monochrome only started putting out music officially in early 2024, his frequent releases have helped him quickly establish an omnivorous style that mostly mixes and mashes Western Trap influences with drum-heavy styles like Amapiano and Afropop. His first single, “PAY ME,” and the follow-up “SOBOBO,” which came two months later, are both peppy, uptempo bops that set the tone for ‘+P4R4NORM4L,’ his debut project, which arrived in April 2024. On the opening track “Je M’appelle 444,” he wastes little time making known his modus operandi as he repeatedly sings ‘Je M’appelle 444, I no come here to conform,’ over some buoyant percussion. He goes on to showcase more of his eccentric approach across the other six tracks, especially on highlights like “Dirty Diana” and “Omoge Diana.”

While most of the production on ‘+P4R4NORM4L’ was handled by close collaborator Irigo, Monochrome began to produce his own beats soon after. This hands-on approach enabled him to infuse his sound with a pronounced psychedelic edge, a characteristic that has become increasingly prominent in his more recent music. Following the release of his debut, he put out a couple of singles to maintain his growing momentum before ‘+SWAGU°,’ his sophomore project, arrived in May 2025. 

The project expands on Monochrome’s non-conformity as he seamlessly blends different styles to produce even more dynamic and compelling cuts. “NEW SWAGGA,” the opening track, is powered by some ominous synths and bouncy drums. Standouts “COMPUTER” and “BILLIE JEAN” are tailor-made for the dancefloors thanks to insistent thud of log drums, hypnotic shakers and piano rhythms, while “MIA KHALIFA,” the most downtempo offering on here, highlight just how malleable his style is as he continues to showcase what he’s all about. 

 

Esoterica

For Fans of: Lorde, Jorja Smith, Asa

Esoterica’s voice possesses an unmistakable power. It’s a distinctive, rich alto that she wields with expert precision, capable of soaring through complex melodies and imbuing every lyric with profound emotion. Even though the Lagos-based singer, songwriter and painter’s music does not always adhere to a set or specific style – Spotify bio describes her as an “alt-pop-grunge-surrealist indie darling” – her rousing vocals remain consistently captivating, whether she’s delivering a tender ballad or an upbeat, Pop-inspired anthem. 

After putting out several unreleased demos on social media and making a name for herself in Lagos’ underground live music circuit, she put out her official debut single “Goldmine” in June 2023. The single finds Esoterica grappling with the existential as she sings, “Feels like I’m running out of time, but I’ve been here all my life / The house is burning, but I’m doing all right, I’m doing just fine” over some haunting production courtesy of close collaborator Yosa. In an interview following the release of the single, she went into detail about the meaning behind “Goldmine”, stating that ‘I think the human mind is a goldmine, it can give you everything that you hope for in life, but you have to figure out how to access it. “

Following the release of “Goldmine,” Esoterica went months without releasing new music, but she continued uploading unreleased demos on social media and expanding her reach with a couple of noteworthy live performances across the city. The follow-up to “Goldmine” wouldn’t come until two years later, when she released the Cozy Kiyo-produced “Think I Might,” a fun, summery single that proved she’s as effective singing light, spirited jams as she is making sombre, melancholic tunes. 

Since the release of “Think I Might,” the powerhouse singer has put her foot on the gas, releasing a bunch of singles and collaborations that paint a fuller picture of her range and rich artistry. She shows off some of her rap skills alongside SGaWD on “Decisions,” while her soaring vocals take centre stage again on “She Said,” a stripped-back number that borders on vulnerability and self-acceptance. She put on an outstanding showing on “Time Of My Life,” a prominent cut from Peruzzi’s latest album ‘SABALI,’ before recently teaming up with EDM bros Spenser M and MR KENOU for a pulsating track titled “Inner Feeling.” One release at a time, Esoterica continues to establish herself as a dynamic force to be reckoned with, and with the promise of even more music to come, she’s definitely on course for wider acclaim. 

 

Kkeda

For Fans Of:  Tiwa Savage, Tems, and Efya

Kkeda weaves heart-tugging narratives around the motion of romance and love, examining its highs and lows with a focused clarity that has made her one of the most exciting rising acts in Afropop right now. Born in London to second-generation black British parents of Jamaican heritage, she bears the imprint of both cultures, pulling resonant rhythms from inside her as well as leaning on sticky-sweet patois in other songs. As a child, she moved to Ghana, spending a significant part of her formative years with her grandmother.  A spinal injury necessitated a return to London down the line, and during that period of her life, music became an escape, helping her to deal with life’s pressures. 

A stint at a London-based theatre school followed as Kkeda worked on sharpening facets of her performance skills. Convinced of her artistry, she once again returned to Ghana, eager to kick off her career, announcing her arrival with the chorus of “I Like It,” a soulful cut on ‘We Outside; Y3 W) Abonten Vol. 1’  by Ground Up Chale. “I Like It” planted Kkeda’s feet, introducing the world to her dexterous blend of R&B and Soul. One year later, she returned with “Cheating,” a reflection on temptations in relationships that ends with the singer reinforcing her dedication to her lover.  She further explored her fascination with romantic dynamics on songs like “Temper” and “Hopeless Romantic” from 2021. 

Her knack for enlivening collaborations was visible on “Tomorrow” off K1’s ‘Love Never Dies,’ a delicate sung-rap collaboration about the hard times in a relationship. A sultry turn on “All Night” saw the singer step into Afropop terrain over a subterranean instrumental that artfully platformed her voice. “Steady,” a textured anthem about being focused on making money was her only release from 2024. 2025 has seen her return to the love-themed releases that helped build her profile. “Love Away” is a thrilling disavowal of toxic love and relationships, while “StarSigns” finds her seeking out a fulfilling romance. 

 

Y Celeb

For Fans Of: Nyashinski, Sarkodie, and Focalistic

Y Celeb makes music that pays homage to the realities of life in his native Zambia. The  Kitwe-born rapper distills his perspective on wider life in the Southern Africa country into vibrant anthems that straddle Hip-Hop and Dance music. Born Webster Chikalaba, he rose to prominence in 2022 with the release of “408 Freestyle,” a collaboration with Wau China that showcased his gritty delivery and a capacity for world-building that his gravelly voice enhances. His breakout year saw him experiment with with Dance on “They Lie,” a posse cut that featured Xaven, Jae Cash, and Briyo. Other songs like “Speedo Meter,” “Mumano,” and “Ah Fenta” found the singer broadening the reach of his sound while perfecting his Dance-Rap fusion. 

The breadth of his vision came to the fore on his 2023 album, ‘Zambia Ku Chalo,’ a pulsating 21-song effort that found Y Celeb expressing pride in his Zambian identity as well as presenting his country as a place to visit. “PUSANAKO” reverbrates with that sense of pride, featuring Emmy Zambia, both acts craft a homage to the country that reimagines it as a land of peace and plenty.  Huge swathes of  ‘Zambia Ku Chalo’ are built on a framwork of Dance and Hip-Hop finding common ground in suitable fashion. RAY DEE and JC KALINIKS are a complimentary foil for Celeb’s emotive bars on “WHO DO YOU THINK YOU ARE,” delivering a high point that luxuriates in national pride and self-confidence. 

In the two years since,  ‘Zambia Ku Chalo,’ Y Celeb’s vision has only grown stronger. His May 2025 album, ‘MOST WANTED,’ casts him as an elusive figure who’s operating at the cutting edge of Southern African music. On “Money,” he lets off bars about  paper-chasing alongside a balmy chorus supplied by Goddy ZM. There’s an invocation to embrace the journey on “Dont Rush” and a party summons on the dance-ready “Confess.” Just months after ‘MOST WANTED,’ Celeb returned with “Ichushi,” a jaunty hip-hop cut with Smart Kays (Dope Boys) and Jay Dollar that found at his venomous best. 

How ‘Made In Lagos’ Created A Blueprint For An Era

Posted on by Toriola Olawale

It’s been five years since we got ‘Made in Lagos,’ an album widely considered to be one of the most conceptual and impactful albums of the Afropop-to-the-world era, and arguably the greatest Nigerian album ever made. Yet this moment was more than 14 years in the making.

When Wizkid emerged in 2010 with ‘Superstar,’ he became the face of a new generation, an emblem of the “Naija Pop” renaissance that fused swagger, melody, and streetwise optimism. The album’s resonance was instant and enduring, cementing its place as a new-school classic and positioning Wizkid as one of the brightest talents Nigerian music had ever seen. At the time, this writer was a nine-year-old boy somewhere on the outskirts of Lagos, echoing the lyrics about what it meant to be a ‘Superstar.’ Since then, Wizkid has been in constant motion, evolving and deliberate in his quest to redefine what it means to be a global superstar whose art transcends borders without losing its essence.

After Drake’s chart-topping “One Dance” in 2016, Wizkid became Nigeria’s most visible pop export. His third studio album, 2017’s ‘Sounds From the Other Side,’ extended his global footprinr, featuring collaborations with Drake, Chris Brown, Major Lazer, and TY Dolla $ign. Yet while it opened international doors, it alienated parts of his home audience. 

 

Unlike his sophomore project ‘Ayo,’ which leaned into Yoruba percussion, street lamba, and traditional dance rhythms—rekindling his domestic connection with hits like “Jaiye Jaiye,” “In My Bed,” “On Top Your Matter,” and “Ojuelegba”—‘SFTOS’ felt, to many Nigerians, like an experiment made for Western ears making the album a niche triumph and not the homegrown resonance that defined his earlier sound.

But true visionaries rarely remain still. To become the defining global Afropop star of his generation, Wizkid needed to reimagine, not replicate, his past, as the saying goes, “to play the orchestra, one must turn their back on the audience.” So, Wizkid went quiet. For a while, he took a step back from full-length projects, appearing only on select collaborations while refining what would become his magnum opus. In December 2019, ‘SoundMan Vol. 1,’ a surprise EP credited to Starboy rather than Wizkid, arrived as a quiet revelation that was built around silky, percussive production from Kel-P and London. It previewed a new sound: smooth, Afro-fusion elegance steeped in calm confidence and global fluency, while retaining the percussive elements that characterized his previous eras.

By the time ‘Made in Lagos’ finally dropped in October 2020, Wizkid had mastered restraint as power. To fans and skeptics alike, this album wasn’t just another release, it was a cultural reset that was going to redefine the soundscape and scalability of Afropop as a movement. While some at home initially struggled to accept his sonic evolution, the album soared abroad, breaking into global airwaves and earning co-signs from major pop culture figures. 

‘Made in Lagos’ redefined what a crossover hit album could sound like on a level we hadn’t experienced. It was authentically Lagos, yet fluid enough to resonate everywhere. The features—H.E.R., Damian Marley, Skepta, Burna Boy, Tay Iwar, Projexx, Ella Mai—mirrored Wizkid’s cosmopolitan range, reinforcing his global Pop appeal. But it was “Essence,” featuring Tems, that became the global breakout. The Trojan record infiltrated American radio, climbed international charts, and reshaped Afropop’s image abroad. When the Justin Bieber-assisted remix of the song and ‘Made in Lagos’ (Deluxe) arrived in August 2021, “Essence” peaked at No. 9 on the Billboard Hot 100, spending 35 weeks there, making history as the highest-charting Afrobeats record ever at the time. 

Culturally, ‘Made in Lagos’ evolved into a movement. It marked a turning point, effectively transforming Afropop from an “emerging market/genre” to a global mainstay, proving the sound’s commercial viability and cultural power. Its impact was not only in numbers but in energy back at home. 2019, leading into 2020, was a period dominated by street-leaning records from acts like Naira Marley and Zlatan, as well as the Street-Pop wave. Wizkid’s polished revolution on ‘Made in Lagos’  was an antithesis that packaged intimacy and the rhythms of Lagos into a universal sound, building a blueprint that would serve many in the years in to come.

For many of his colleagues in the industry, especially younger acts on the come up, ‘Made in Lagos’ became a lesson in sonic minimalism, global storytelling, and mood curation. Every track on the album felt deliberate, with personal favorites like “No Stress,” “Blessed,” and “Ginger” radiating composure, while “True Love” and “Grace” glowed with the quiet fire of maturity.

The album opened new doors not just for Wizkid but for Afropop as a whole. Suddenly, radio programmers, festival curators, and global labels were paying attention, not as a trend, but as a culture. The sound of Lagos had found its most elegant translator through its most elegant representative. Two years later, Rema’s “Calm Down” pushed the genre to even greater heights, standing as a natural successor to “Essence.”

Still, everyone admits that it was Wizkid’s album that proved Afropop could dominate globally without compromise, that African rhythms, moods, and emotions could travel the world on their own terms. For Wizkid, ‘Made in Lagos’ wasn’t just music, it was a reclamation of self. After years of experimentation and evolution, he’d found a balance between global appeal and cultural identity. The project’s essence—lush, meditative, layered—mirrored Lagos itself: a fine blend of composure and beauty. 

 

 

Five years later, ‘Made in Lagos’ still stands tall, not merely as a record of achievements, but as a redefinition of possibility, representing patience, evolution, and faith in one’s sound. For every young dreamer from this part of the world, it’s proof that greatness can be quiet, and influence can be soft-spoken. For this writer, now in his twenties, documenting the culture that shaped his childhood, it remains a personal compass. The same kid who once sang along to ‘Superstar’ on the outskirts of Lagos now writes about the music that gave his generation its voice.

And Wizkid? He’s still standing tall. Still calm, still confident. Five years after, he’s navigating another golden age and releasing some of his finest work yet, still anchored in Lagos, guiding us through an odyssey of mood, melody, and fusion. He remains the same boy from Ojuelegba, only now a global figure whose sound has outgrown geography but never forgotten home. ‘Made in Lagos’ remains more than an album; it’s a testament that shifted the culture and stretched the limits of what African music could be. And five years on, the blueprint still holds.

NATIVE Exclusive: Mavo’s Universe 

Posted on by Wale Oloworekende

On a sunny Wednesday afternoon in August, Mavo is talking through outfit changes for his Bizzypedia shoot at a law library in Ikoyi, Lagos. It’s only the first part of a tasking stretch that would see him have multiple fit swaps and work through several poses in front of the camera before heading to another studio in Lekki for an audio-visual accompaniment to his specially curated zine, Bizzypedia. 

Mavo does all that’s required of him with calculated precision, responding when his input is sought from him or a clarification is needed. Still, halfway through his time at the law library in Ikoyi, there is a realisation that our interview, originally scheduled to be held at some point during the shoot, will not take place anymore as his team of stylists and photographers take over the show, hard at work to perfect all the elements for the shoot of Bizzypedia, a one-of-a-kind publication that’s designed to be an immersive incursion into the alternate universe that the Benin-born singer has designed for his fans and listeners. 

The need for Bizzypedia is necessitated by how slippery it can be to classify Mavo. On some days, he’s a 21-year-old student of optometry at Afe Babalola University in Ekiti State. On other days, he’s an ascendant force in Afropop who comes up with radio bangers in his dorm room in his free time, preferring to hunker down with his music while his peers go to football pitches to blow off steam, but perhaps the most fascinating part of Mavo’s composition is an intuitive apathy for language. 

Where other rising musicians rely excessively on tonality and vocal dexterity, Mavo’s playful inversion of language has seen him weave compelling narratives around heartbreak, ambition, and despondency into an entertaining brand of music that’s addictive and resonant.  It comes from years of studying music and working his way towards writing songs people would gravitate towards.  “Growing up, I always listened to music, but I was more of a writer,” he says when we finally get a chance to speak near the end of August. “I was always writing music. I always wanted to write lyrics. I was always writing them out, trying to mime, trying to know them in my head.”

It is fitting that he lists Wande Coal and Duncan Mighty as critical acts who shaped his music, praising them for their writing style, the singing style they employed, and the way they’ve navigated independence in a brutal industry. “I really appreciate their vocal presence and lyrical flexibility,” he says.  “They could go from high to low so easily, and they were not really mainstream artists, but they did not have to do so much and did not have to be like Wizkid and Davido to show that they were so good in the music, and people still recognise them as very good artists. That’s what I wanted for myself.”

That streak for self-sufficiency is a legacy of Mavo’s childhood. Born in Ekpoma, Edo State, he moved to Warri in nearby Delta State as a child before returning to Edo for secondary school as a boarding student. It was as a student of  Lumen Christi International High School that he was christened Mavo, setting him on the path to global fame. “When I got to SS1, there was a club called Music Club. In that club, every Friday you go there to sing what we have made, or what we’ve written,” he remembers. “That’s where I started putting out my music. I started showing that I was an artist and I could make music. From SS1, guys were already vibing with me. They would always wait for Friday to hear what I have to drop.”

When he got admitted to study optometry at Afe Babalola University, he was determined to level up as a musician, seeking out collaborators to work with on his music and improve his craft. For his first four years in university, all he did was write music and record while building an expansive digital vault of songs. When the time came to start releasing music professionally, in 2023, he had 300 songs ready to go. “I record by myself,” he explains. “It’s not that hard.” His first set of songs performed well online, receiving over 5,000 streams on SoundCloud just a few days after they were released. Sensing an opportunity to structure a proper campaign, his manager, Bevs, took down some of the songs from SoundCloud. “I decided to release it properly on DSPs because those songs required proper attention,” she says. 

 

Those songs formed the backbone of his debut project, ‘Ukanigbe,’ an exploratory seven-tracker that housed gems like “Tumo Weto,” a spiteful rumination on a failed relationship,  “Timo Wena,” an amapiano-inflected rendition of the depths he’s willing to go to prove his love to a romantic interest, and the titular track that’s a defiant declaration of his independence. Listeners were confused about this fascinating new voice and his insistence on maintaining independence in an industry where many crave connections to major labels and the promise of success that those affiliations seemingly promise. For Mavo, the freedom to do things at his own pace was important for the singer in the early days of his career. 

“Everybody was confused about why I was saying that I was independent,” he says. “Guys were like, ‘Why is this guy trying to do this at the first stage of his music career? Why is he trying to say he is independent? Why does he not want any help?’ I was just trying to build myself first. I wanted to see what I could do by myself before taking help from anybody.”

Armed with a trove of music and a nimble team aligned with his vision, the singer followed up  ‘Ukanigbe’ with a series of projects that expanded on his id while introducing fresh dimensions to his delivery and style. What has remained constant is a fierce dedication to making music deeply marked by luxury and indulgent consumerism, as evinced by his go-to line: no more way for poor people. For better or worse, it’s an honest reflection of the thought process of a young Nigerian living through some of the most torrid economic conditions in the nation’s history. 

 

He doesn’t shy away from admitting that his music is made with opulence in mind when I ask him how he would define his music. “I define my music as luxury music; my music is just luxurious,” he answers without missing a beat. “That’s why not everybody can understand it. If you are focused on making money, you can grasp my music, but not as much as those who are already making music. If you want to make money, you can get it to an extent, but not as much as those already making money. If you are currently making money and money is getting into your account, there’s no way you will not feel my music because it’s luxury music.”

Still, he goes through great odds to explain that he regards himself as an artist who is obsessed with music. “The thing about me is that I’m an artist who always cares about the art,” he shares. “I feel like just singing about God’s blessings or singing about parties is not how to be an artist. For me, an artist is meant to be able to make a song about any situation. Art should not be confined, and an artist should not be limited. I have songs about parties, I have songs about food, I have songs about drinking, and I have songs about smoking. I just have songs for different moments.” 

While his catalogue is indeed packed with songs that run the gamut of the human experience, it is a song about the unabashed embrace of opulence and palatial grandeur that has provided the momentum propelling his career forward over the last six months. “Escaladizzy,” a song he wrote in his room, has become one of the most defining songs of 2025, thanks to the confluence of his unique slang infused in indigenous rhythms and WAVE$TAR’s breezy delivery. What started as a viral moment across social media became a catalyst for Mavo’s emergence as a solid contender for the breakout Nigerian act of 2025. 

 

“When I went to WAVE$TAR’s house, I told him that I already had this song I wanted to record, but I didn’t know if he would be nice on it,” Mavo says. “I was just playing the beat, and he was vibing to it. So, I was just like, ‘This is a nice vibe that would lead up to the part I already wrote.’ We actually didn’t even finish the song; we just stopped at the chorus, and that was it. We didn’t record the verses. It was after we finished for the day that I told him maybe I’ll drop the song, and he would just record his verse and add my part later.”

Initially, Mavo had planned to release a deluxe version of his April album, ‘Kilometer,’ but the demand for “Escaladizzy” forced him in a different direction, leading to the biggest hit of his career. He’s insistent that this moment was always going to come. “I was always sure of myself,” he says matter-of-factly. “I was already sure that no matter how much the music didn’t go so far at first, it was going to go so far eventually, I was just going to continue pushing.” 

Still, the scale and demands of his meteoric rise to fame shock even him sometimes. “The most surprising thing is me not wanting to go out and not wanting people to see me,” he admits. “Like, I don’t want to be outside. Normally, I thought that when I started popping or getting recognition, I would be an outside guy so that people could take pictures of me and all, but when it happened, everything changed. I get so overwhelmed by people talking to me and the constant interaction.”

A key part of what has contributed to Mavo’s rise is his peculiar slang style, which has been adopted by a generation of onlookers and fans eager to decipher what the meaning of words like ifatizzy, bur bur, and burti mean. In some ways, his unique slang represents the work from his POV and an attempt to build a world around his music.  “I have always wanted to create an alternate language where people can have fun, and people will not understand, and this is similar to that,” he explains. 

With an ever-expanding audience tuning in to his music, Mavo is keen to help them find their way through his music by providing illumination on some of the slang used in his music. “Bizzypedia represents me,” he says. “I feel like it’s a better guide to who I am. It is a guide to people understanding me, because I feel like I’m very hard for people to understand. I like the fact that I’m not easy to understand because when you’re easy to understand, you’ll be easy to access.” With Bizzypedia, he’s aiming to invite people into his world and allow them to get a look at the world from his perspective: “Bizzypedia is going to be a general guide for everybody to finally understand that this is what this Mavo guy is about, and he’s a different person, not just a regular guy, or the regular artist that drops music and goes.”

Not content to sit on his laurels, Mavo is itching for more, invariably leading us to his forthcoming project, ‘Kilometer II.’ While he won’t share a lot of details, he describes it as an improvement on its predecessor. “The first was a race of a lifetime. ‘Kilometer II’ will be a flight of a lifetime,” he says. “We’re flying now and doing unimaginable things. People are always relating us to smoking and doing cana, if you’re doing that, you’re basically on a flight.”

 

As it is, Mavo is busy acclimatising to the demands of stardom and fame while working to complete his degree in Optometry. The release of ‘Kilometer II’ is strategically planned to ensure that he can be back in school in time for classes at some point in October. It’s a seemingly endless grind that would burn out even the strongest person, but Mavo is just keen to get on with it. 

This is the life he always wanted; now that it’s within sight, he just has to reach out and own it. 

Bola PSD Wants To Define A New Era Of Nigerian Streetwear

Posted on by Kofoworola Oloyede

There’s a calm precision to the way Bola speaks. It’s very measured and thoughtful, like someone who has had to learn patience through living it. Before Bola PSD became a force in the new wave of African streetwear, he was just a kid, obsessed with getting his outfits right. “I didn’t know much about fashion then,” he says, “I just liked to dress well and stand out.” What started as a simple love for dressing with intention has slowly evolved into what now defines his brand’s identity.

When Bola PSD launched in 2023, the path wasn’t clear or straight. The first few designs leaned heavily on a rockstar edge. Two months in, Bola pivoted, stripping the brand down to its core and rebuilding it around his own style, creating exactly what he wanted: everyday fits, clean silhouettes, and pieces that truly reflect who he really is.

His journey mirrors the energy of his generation: self-made, deeply personal, and unafraid to evolve in public. From seeing Rema wear his white polo in the “Fun” video to expanding the brand from Lagos to Canada, Bola’s story is really about persistence, taste, and timing. “You don’t need anyone’s validation,” he says. “Everything will align in due time.”

 

What first drew you into fashion, and when did you realize it was more than just a hobby?   

It started in secondary school, I’ve been mindful of how I dress since then. Even back then, I was conscious of the kind of clothes I wore, down to the colors. At the time, I didn’t know much about fashion as a concept; I just knew I liked to dress really well and in a way that made me stand out. I wanted people to see me and know there was something different about my style. Then, in university, being around different people, I got to experience a whole lot more. That’s when it became more than just dressing well. I started being more intentional about it. I saw people who had clothing brands, and I began to feel like I needed to do something that was me-coded. Of course, I didn’t start immediately; I wanted to take my time to observe how everything worked and make sure I got into it the right way. I didn’t have a fashion background, so it was something I basically had to learn and figure out on my own.

Out of all the fashion niches, what was it about streetwear that really spoke to you?

When I started my brand in 2023, the very first design I put out was in a different niche. About two months in, I started realizing I didn’t particularly like the direction it was going; it had more of a rockstar vibe. It wasn’t that the rockstar vibe didn’t feel true to me; I actually like it, but it had its own niche, and I didn’t want the brand to start that way because it wouldn’t appeal to everyone. I wanted Bola PSD to be for everybody, so I had to take a different approach. I began making it more about myself and what I actually liked, rather than just trying to appeal to a specific type of audience like I was doing before. For example, if I felt like wearing track pants today or ribbed T-shirts tomorrow, then that’s what I’d create. The brand basically revolves around me as a person, and I wanted people to see and connect with that. 

Whose work do you admire or study?

Virgil Abloh. He was one of the first people who made me take fashion seriously and actually approach it with more intention. Of course, there are several other people over time that I admire and who inspire me to try different things, but Virgil takes the crown; he played the biggest role in influencing my career. Before I even started my brand, I had a graphic design page where I was trying to put my name out there and show people what I was doing. The fact that Virgil had a graphic design page called Canary Yellow, where he curated his works, also inspired me to do mine that way. He’s been a major influence not just in my creative process but also in the way I present and share my work.

What keeps you going? What’s the motivation behind building your name and brand?

When I first started and began to see how everything was playing out, it really pushed me that this actually happened, and I once dreamt of it. So it made me believe that the bigger dreams will definitely happen too. Looking back at when I was younger, the things I always wanted to do are now playing out in real time, and that just keeps me really motivated. It’s a dream I never thought would unfold this way, and seeing it come to life is what keeps me going every day.

Why do you think your work resonates so much with this new generation of artists?

I feel like every generation has one person they just see and instantly connect with;  someone they just naturally vibe with. I do hope I’m that person. 

 

What’s been the hardest lesson you’ve learned building your brand? 

The hardest lesson would be realizing that you don’t need anyone’s validation to do your thing; everything will eventually align in due time. These things take time, and honestly, time is a major factor. When I first started, I wanted to see results fast, but I had to learn that timing and patience are everything, especially if you’re in it for the long run. What came easily to me was the fashion and design side of things. Since I was already a graphic designer, that part came naturally. I’ve been designing most of the pieces myself for the brand, but right now I’m expanding and bringing more people in.

Some people have strong opinions about streetwear pricing. How do you respond to those conversations around the price of your pieces?

Honestly, I don’t respond much. If people have seen the pieces I’ve put out, especially this year, they’ll see it’s good quality. I’m a bit of a perfectionist, and I always want my clothes to meet a certain standard. As the brand started growing, I knew I had to keep that standard high. I think it’s better to hear people talk about price than to say, “Bola’s stuff isn’t good.” 

I know how much goes into making each piece-the materials and production-and none of it is cheap. A lot of people don’t see the losses brand owners take before things even come together. Also, I’m producing these clothes outside Nigeria, paying in USD, and then selling in Naira;  so that adds another layer to the cost. Still, I try not to overprice. Honestly, the quality could justify higher prices, but I try to keep it as affordable as possible. That’s why I also include smaller pieces like skull caps, so everyone can still get something from Bola PSD. It’s a brand for everyone, not just a specific crowd.

How was it like seeing the white polo t-shirt in Rema’s “Fun” video? Did you actually have any idea that was going to happen?

Yeah, I already knew they were going to use it because they reached out. I also kind of foresaw that there would be a ripple effect once the video dropped, because for someone like Rema, it’s not just any kind of clothing they put him in. So, of course, it validated the brand for some people, and I was ready for that ripple effect on all fronts. Watching it all play out was just really good, seeing how everyone was talking about it even before me meant a lot. 

 

We noticed the site now requires a password. What’s the story behind that? Is Bola PSD moving toward a members-only experience? 

I just closed it temporarily because I’m updating the website and adding new products. Since I recently moved to Canada, there are a few things I still need to adjust because of that, too. It’s nothing permanent; I still want everyone to have access. I’ve made it a point this year to keep my site open at all times, even when there aren’t any items for sale. A day before the new drop, people will be able to sign up via email for early access or to be the first to know when everything goes live.

What’s next for Bola PSD? Any upcoming drops, collabs, or shifts we should be watching for? 

There are a lot of plans, especially for this last quarter. I’m dropping new items and also doing stuff for the women, which is something I’ve always wanted to do. At this point, there’s a bigger responsibility to keep people connected to the brand.

Five Years Later, What Is The Legacy of The #ENDSARS Protests?

Posted on by Vincent Desmond

“The protests had begun in Delta and other parts of the country,” recalls Femi Fadahunsi, who was working as a reporter for Nigerian culture publication Zikoko in 2020 when the EndSARS protests broke out. “In Lagos, it began as a group camping outside the state government house. I’d seen it unfolding on Twitter and felt something was different about this one. There was no organized movement behind it.”

It was on day two of what would come to be considered the 2020 #EndSARS protest that Fadahunsi joined the protest grounds. By the time he got there, the energy was visible as he watched an even larger crowd join the already sizeable crowd at the Lekki Toll Gate, which became the epicenter of the nationwide protest. “It hit me when I arrived at the grounds,” he remembers. “The energy was palpable, and in that moment, I knew this was going to be something momentous.”

Ebele Molua, a media and events consultant, helped provide protesters with food during the protests. She still remembers when she realized that what was unfolding was something special. ‘‘I suddenly saw a wave of people charging in the direction of the group of protesters that were already there,” she recounts. “It was another group of protesters that had walked all the way from Agege to join the group I was leaving. You could literally feel the momentum of the protesters that were already on the ground shoot through the roof. They were not alone. I knew in that moment this was going to be one for the books.’’

By the time October 2020 rolled around, it felt like the world had already lived through every possible plot twist. The year had opened with a global pandemic that forced the world into lockdown. It left everyone glued to the news, watching death tolls climb while scrolling endlessly through social media. Then came the #BlackLivesMatter protests in the West, sparking a global reckoning with institutional racism.

in Nigeria, a different type of reckoning with institutional authority had been brewing. The Special Anti-Robbery Squad (SARS) was a specific unit of the Nigerian Police Force that was created to deal with violent crimes like robbery and kidnapping. Since its formation in 1992, the unit had become known for being particularly violent to civilians whom they often profiled based on looks. Accusations of extrajudicial killings, extortions, and torture had inspired several protests and pushbacks from many over the years. In fact, reforms had been promised in 2016, 2017, 2018, and 2019, all to no avail or visible change. If anything, SARS got more violent as the months and years passed. 

In October of 2020, a video showing a SARS police officer shooting a young Nigerian at Ughelli, Delta State, hit the Internet. Soon after, reports of SARS officials gunning down an up-and-coming musician named Sleek also surfaced. Something about these videos in quick succession caused the internet to respond with fervor, and soon after, young people hit the streets of states around Nigeria. 

 

EndSARS was, in many ways, a collective national coming-of-age. It felt like we were a newly minted generation of young adults baptized by fire, suddenly seeing our country and ourselves with clarity. This cohort would come to be known as the Soro Soke Generation ( meaning“Speak Up” in Yoruba). The excitement was electric. Everyone was tweeting, posting, and amplifying not just police brutality but also the broader political and social injustices that had been ignored for decades.

For the first time in many of our lives, here was a movement that wasn’t defined by party politics, ethnic divisions, or personal ambition. It was a collective push for real change that, we hoped, could make our lives better. It felt like we were unlocking a dormant muscle, realizing who we were and how much power we truly held. The political class scrambled, visibly shaken by the sheer scale and unity of the youth-led uprising.

The EndSARS protests soon captured global attention. Unfortunately, on October 20, 2020,  five years ago today, the movement was brutally suppressed in a display of state-sanctioned violence that the government continues to deny. We all watched, in horror and disbelief, as the Nigerian army opened fire on unarmed protesters waving the national flag.

Where the start of EndSARS was defined by faith in our collective strength and a rare sense of patriotic optimism, the events of that night seemed to undo it all. Many young Nigerians were abruptly awakened to a new political and social consciousness. For the first time, we were forced to confront the brutal truth of our disposability and how little regard the state had for our lives, our voices, and our rights.

‘‘Before EndSARS, I believed there were certain lines the government wouldn’t cross,’’ journalist Nelson C.J. told NATIVE Mag. ‘‘Shooting unarmed citizens felt unimaginable. I assumed there was a baseline of decency, a kind of unspoken code. That illusion shattered on October 20th.’’

In Greek mythology, when Pandora opened her box and unleashed all the world’s evils, one spirit remained: Elpis, the spirit of hope. Watching Nigerians come together across ideologies and subcultures during EndSARS felt like we’d been given that spirit to tend to. But on the night of October 20th, it felt dampened as we watched Nigerians who held the Nigerian flag and sang the National anthem being shot at.

‘‘The reminder I have of EndSARS happening is the toll gate not being functional, which I believe is a doggy bone that will soon be snatched away,’’ Molua shares. ‘‘Other than that, it feels like we’re being punished. The country has gotten so much worse since then, by every single indicator.’’

 

Five years might be a short time in a country’s history, but in a person’s life, it’s long enough for wounds to harden into silence. And seemingly that is what has happened to the generation that a few years ago thought that to ‘Soro Soke,’ was going to be our defining characteristic. Five years ago, we shouted, tweeted, and posted about how we were not like our parents’ generation. It seems like Nigeria is happening to us still. We may rephrase or reframe it, but it is visible in how the big Nigerian dream of today is to ‘japa’ where  for our parents, it was ‘checking out’. It all feels like a case of different names but the same reality.

‘‘Sometimes I fear that the Nigerian goldfish memory has set in,” Fadahunsi shares. “We forget the horror. We forget the power we once felt as we marched, demanded, and hoped. We forget the shock of watching our government shoot its own citizens, people armed with nothing but the flag. We forget how quickly the truth was buried under propaganda.’’

So, did we change Nigeria, or did Nigeria change us? 

‘‘The change was sadly not transformative. It unlocked, I’d say, a hunger for escape and a sad sense of statelessness in many.’’ C.J. says. ‘‘While it may seem like nothing really changed, the protests really did show us what is possible. And while it may not happen again, it is a confirmation that when the time comes, we will know how to find our voice again.’’

It is in that possibility, the possibility of our collective power causing change, forcing the political class to look at the state of the country and to get that story out there on the global stage, that the greatest win of the ENDSARS movement lies. Young Nigerians, in a matter of days, created and maintained a decentralized movement that the entire country and the world felt in the middle of one of the most action-packed years of our lives. This should be the legacy of ENDSARS: a constant reminder that we can demand better of institutions meant to serve us. 

Zlatan Is Afropop’s Ultimate Symbol of Hope

Posted on by Folake Ajao

The rhythm of Zlatan Ibile’s life pulses with an urgency that mirrors the streets of Lagos, where dreams are forged in the crucible of hustle. His journey, propelled by raw talent and relentless determination, has carried him from the unassuming streets of Ikorodu to the epicenter of Afropop, where he first made waves with his debut album, ‘Zanku.’ With his latest, ‘Symbol of Hope,’  Zlatan is offering a beacon for those navigating their own paths through adversity.  In parts, this project, his third full-length album, captures the essence of a man who has transformed personal triumphs into a universal call for resilience.

From humble beginnings, Zlatan’s entry into music felt accidental, a detour from his initial ambitions to be a footballer. He recalls stumbling into the craft without a clear map. “When I began making music, I didn’t know what I was doing,” he shares. What started as an experiment ultimately evolved into a defining journey. 

His breakthrough came through a collaboration with Olamide, a moment that shifted the trajectory of his life. Expecting a fierce Hip-Hop back and forth, Zlatan was instead surprised by Olamide’s melodic ingenuity, thrown aback by a song that opened with the puzzling line,   “Oh my lord, the weyrey dey my body.” That unexpected pivot guided by Olamide’s intuition became “My Body,” the master hit that broke him out. “If we had gone bar for bar, I’d probably still be in Ikorodu fighting for my life,” Zlatan admits with a reflective chuckle.

From those roots, his sound blossomed. The fast-paced Street-Pop template that defined his early work has expanded into a richer palette of stirring anthems, mid-tempo reflections, and tender love songs. “Now, I make all kinds of songs: street anthems, mid-tempo tracks, motivational songs, and even calm love songs,” he says. “My sound has definitely evolved, but people on the outside sometimes don’t see the full picture of your growth.” 

It’s been four years since he last released an album, but the Zanku boss has had his hands full. The gap between his 2021 album ‘Resan’ and ‘Symbol of Hope’ was no idle pause but a season of building. “Music is just one part of my life,” he explains, noting the weight of other responsibilities. Still, he has maintained prolificity. In 2022, he released singles and featured on collaborations; his name remained a constant draw for rising artists looking to consolidate mainstream breakthroughs. 

Other responsibilities have shaped his outlook on life. Fatherhood, which arrived in 2020, particularly redefined Zlatan’s world. “Becoming a father in 2020 was a game-changer,” he says. His son became both anchor and muse, tempering the wild energy that fans had come to expect from Zlatan. The “madness” that fueled his street anthems softened, making room for a grounded perspective..The balance that emerges between the chaos of performance and the quiet duties of home life infuses his music with new depth, resonating in “Symbol of Hope.”

 

Beyond the studio, Zlatan’s entrepreneurial spirit has thrived. His fashion brand ZTTW, launched online in 2017, grew into a physical store in Lagos a year and a half ago. Days are spent designing, and nights bleed into dawn in the studio. “I barely sleep–maybe three or four hours–because even when I’m not working, I can’t switch off,” he shares. This relentless cycle birthed tracks for the album, some recorded years ago, each a snapshot of his tireless pursuit.

The creative process of ‘Symbol of Hope’ was both a labor of love and an exercise in precise execution. Zlatan recorded endlessly, amassing hundreds of unreleased songs. “I never stop recording, I work like I’m a banker going to work every day,” he says. The album contains 15 tracks, each reflecting a distinct part of his journey and creative growth. Some songs were recorded years ago, while others were shaped in the studio as the project took form. Some creative decisions reflected his desire to reach a wider audience. He purposefully used more pidgin so listeners from every part of Nigeria and beyond could connect with the music. 

Collaborations are also at the heart of the project. Qing Madi’s haunting vocals on “Demons” add emotional heft, while Shallipopi and Terry the Voice ignite “Jeserawa” with street-forged energy. “Gimme Your Love,” featuring Olamide, feels like a sacred reunion, their bond transcending music. Olamide, a mentor and brother, has shaped Zlatan’s path with lessons in humility and generosity. “He’s probably helped more artists in Nigeria than anyone else,” Zlatan notes. 

 

For the first time in his career, Zlatan opened his creative doors to songwriters after eight years of writing every lyric himself. At first, he resisted. No one, he thought, could capture his thoughts better than he could. But he gave it a chance, and what followed surprised him. The words came alive in ways that felt eerily familiar, as if someone had reached inside his heart and rearranged his feelings into melody. “The writer just understood me,” he explains. His friend, Chinko Ekun, was present through the process, helping to complete lines that felt unfinished until they landed. 

Beyond the music itself, “Symbol of Hope” represents Zlatan’s ambition to inspire a new generation of artists and fans. He sees the album as a platform to showcase the possibilities that arise when dedication and creativity merge. “Seeing Olamide’s success made me believe I could do it too; seeing Wizkid make it at such a young age made me realize that I don’t have to be thirty-five before making music,” he says. “Now, I know many people also look up to me as their symbol of hope too. Anybody can be a symbol of hope if they inspire you to be better.”. 

In many ways, Street-Pop’s evolution mirrors Zlatan’s own. What began with raw, street-born energy morphed into a trailblazing sound that pushed boundaries and carried the pulse of the streets through each voice. Zlatan stands in the middle of that arc, both student and teacher. “Street music has come a long way,” he says. ”From Terry G to Olamide, Myself, Naira Marley, Shallipoppi, ODUMODUBLVCK, and Asake, change is constant,” he says. 

 

What has seemingly defined his second arc is a willingness to collaborate across the board. Zlatan particularly embraces collaboration with younger artists because others gave him chances when he was coming up. Today, the music scene is saturated, attention spans are shorter, and artists are expected to release new material constantly. Zlatan moves through it with a patience shaped by time. He finds joy in the rise of new Street-Pop artists, seeing in them the same restless fire that once kept him awake. 

Fame once came with fearful shadows. The fear of slipping back, of watching it all disappear, used to haunt him. But Zlatan learned to turn pressure into perspective. Starting his own label in 2020 was an act of gratitude, a way to give others what he once wished for. “Everyone’s on a different level, like cars in traffic,” he says quietly. “You just have to move at your own pace.” It’s a lesson he carries into every song, every night in the studio that stretches until morning. ‘Symbol of Hope’ feels like the sum of a long-winding journey, a mirror held to a boy who once failed an exam, lost a dream, and found a new dream in melody. Through it, Zlatan extends his hand to those still climbing, hoping to help them make sense of the journey. 

Review: ‘Industry Machine’ by ODUMODUBLVCK

ODUMODUBLVCK’s ‘INDUSTRY MACHINE’ arrives on the back of the most aggressive, drawn-out rollout campaign in recent Nigerian music history. Snippets from the album and its titular track date back to last year; there have been multiple linkups with Premier League stars to whom ODUMODUBLVCK, ever the football aficionado, gave branded jerseys; an entire other project, the 16-track ‘THE MACHINE IS COMING,’ released in March, intended to whet appetites of expectant fans and raise their anticipation for the album’s arrival.

The album itself underscores just how much of a sprawling opus it is intended to be—23 tracks long, fitting in 23 guests drawn from everywhere from Lagos to London, representing every genre from Afrobeat to Drill. There’s a lot of tough talk that ODUMODUBLVCK has placed behind the album, mostly in the form of half-braggadocios, half-prophetic tweets announced with his signature all-caps-locked audacity over X, so there is very little margin for failure, and he knows it. The result is an album that is very much aware of the expectations that lies before it. 

ODUMODUBLVCK succeeds in handling them mostly well. The biggest hurdle was always going to be releasing an album that can channel the ferocious and combative spirit he possesses, while holding on to the velvety melodies for which he receives the most commercial success. The tracks that attempt to balance this have always gone on to become chart-toppers and fan-favourites—“DOG EAT DOG,” “PITY THIS BOY,” “BLOOD ON THE DANCE FLOOR,” “LEGOLAS,” and now “INDUSTRY MACHINE.” 

 

‘INDUSTRY MACHINE,’ save for its titular track, deviates from this formula, as ODUMODUBLVCK attempts a split of his sound and personality across the album; with a handful of uncharacteristically soft-spoken, sing-songy melodies directed towards a romantic interest that must be the recipient of his renewed infatuation—“BABY RAINDEER,” “CANDY MUSIC,” “BANZA BOY,” “MY ANGEL,” and “2 PEOPLE”—while the same album harbours the usual machete-slinging, enemy-cursing, booming vigour that ODUMODUBLVCK directs towards his enemies. It makes for uneven pacing at times, but ODUMODUBLVCK’s attempt to accommodate all sides of his personality ultimately broadens his image beyond what has been painted over the three years of his popularity.

Being at the top of the game for three years, too, means that a certain level of familiarity begins to develop, with the sound and with the persona. ODUMODUBLVCK is hardly the artist to switch eras for new projects—at least not in broad strokes—so ‘INDUSTRY MACHINE’ attempts innovation mostly via its production. You see it at a glance of the album’sproduction credits. There’s a lot less from long-time collaborator UCee (“DOG EAT DOG” and “KUBOLOR”) and nothing at all from Jimohsounds (“BLOOD ON THE DANCE FLOOR”) or TrillXoe and Johnwav (“DECLAN RICE” and “FIREGUN.”) With these creators’ absence goes some of ODUMODUBLVCK’s signature ‘Okporoko rhythm,’ so production sets are a lot more novel and experimental. Declan “Decs” Roberts and Sholz possess the most production credits here, but they are only two of over twenty minds responsible for the soundscape of ‘INDUSTRY MACHINE.’

ODUMODUBLVCK opens fire on “UNAWARE,” the album’s second track, taking as little time as possible to set the record straight on his greviances. “IF YOU LIKE GYM” and “LAYI WASABI” are built on similarly menacing architecture, the perfect platform for him to launch jabs at his opposition: “Take man for joke like say I no sabi/ Layi Wasabi, joke man nothing wey you sabi,” he choruses on the latter, a song cleverly built around the popular Instagram skit maker in one of the many marketing tools deployed for the album. But ODUMODUBLVCK displays some inconsistency in his delivery: “CANDY MUSIC” sports a soothing chorus but is let down by a particularly weak rap verse. 

 

Across the project, the Abuja-based rapper tries to maintain a consistent level of antagonism towards his enemies, but he runs the risk of sounding repetitive. To avoid this, he brings on board several rappers who share a similar venom. Modenine arrives guns blazing on the reimagined “IF YOU LIKE GYM,” coming for rappers who outsource their lyrics: “AI help write your rhyme, Jadrolita/ Gimme a kilometre, dress back biko/ My rhyme book got a four-digit pin keycode.” Reminisce flows in sleek Yoruba on “LAYI WASABI,” hitting hard against fellow rappers with a similar vigour. More than just calling for backup in his rap disses, ODUMODUBLVCKtapping into older eras of Hip-Hop accords ‘INDUSTRY MACHINE’ a genuine Nigerian Rap pedigree that eluded even ‘EZIOKWU’ and ‘THE MACHINE IS COMING.’

As he sets his gaze on his rap credentials, he undoubtedly has an eye on commercial success, as in Nigeria’s music ecosystem, those are often mutually exclusive. An album this large gives some room for leeway with that, being able to fit in so many Hip-Hop numbers yet leave room for earworms that will be the staple for more casual listeners. By some combination of his congenial nature, an active team and perhaps a degree of sheer luck, ODUMODUBLVCK secures both Wizkid and Davido on his guestlist, a feat not achieved in recent years, and one that allows him to enjoy both the supportive and competitive aspects of music stanship to his advantage. 

Wizkid’s “BIG TIME” is more up to the album’s speed—delivered over a steady Hip-Hop bounce, and featuring Wizkid as close to rap as he’ll ever get. It does run a little longer than it really should, as Wizkid takes the reins, walking back old memories: “Causing kasala since when I buss up on the scene/ Make you show me something wey man e never see/ Yeah, I been dey hustle, yeah, my brother till it big/ Say mama go kpai, omo, aje, I no believe,” but nobody asks Wizkid to trim down a verse.

For “GROOVING,” ODUMODUBLVCK goes in an entirely different direction, deviating from the album’s Hip-Hop template to deliver its most Afrocentric song, over which Davido and Seun Kuti are particularly well-fitted, warping to provide a mellow groove that displays a different side to ODUMODUBLVCK. It is this same form he assumes for his softer, love-laced tracks. “BANZA BOY” begins as a solemn, heartfelt devotion to a lover: “I just wanna ride, like die/ My hands in the sky, high high/ Talk to me like you’re mine, my wife/ The look in your eye, so fine.” It’s the same impulse that he carries across to “BABY REINDEER.” For a man who has built a reputation for being raw and vicious with his flow, being able to create genuine love ballads speaks to a hidden vulnerability.

 

‘INDUSTRY MACHINE’ does, however, also allow for an alarming degree of excess. It carries the weight ofthe many parts of him he wants to show and the expectation it intends to fulfil. It means a few songs become unremarkable, because of oversaturation. A few tracks across the album’s second half—”BAGGIO,” “BOMBASTIC ELEMENT,” “GHETTO MAN YUTE”—suffer from this effect. His rich feature list also means that sometimes ODUMODUBLVCK makes decisions that stifle the impact of some of his biggest coups. 

What he has not compromised on is extracting the very best verses from his guests. Skepta is underused but effective on “ADENUGA;” Saweetie and Justin Quiles are immaculate on the electric “MARADONA;” PsychoYP is a perfect complement on the soft-bouncy “TIFFANY;” Ayo Maff and Smada make small but significant contributions to “EJOR;” and Patoranking and Chike bring their respective flavours to “DO YANGA” and “MY ANGEL” respectively. 

Ultimately, ODUMODUBLVCK is the centrepiece of ‘INDUSTRY MACHINE’ and he steers its direction. It is to his credit that the album maintains a level of cohesion and quality across so many tracks and contributors. ‘INDUSTRY MACHINE’ is, by some technicalities, a debut album, as ‘EZIOKWU,’ ‘EZIOKWU UNCUT’ and ‘THE MACHINE IS COMING’ were labelled mixtapes despite their marketing and arrangement suggesting otherwise. 

 

With ‘INDUSTRY MACHINE,’ ODUMODUBLVCK finally arrives on a project worthy enough to be uncategorically labelled an album. It’s easy to see why—the LP is robust on features, pristine in production and rhyming quality, and possessing answers to the questions of his Hip-Hop credentials that have trailed him for as long as his mainstream career. It does get bloated and repetitive in places, but ‘INDUSTRY MACHINE’ is ODUMODUBLVCK’s powerful statement of intent and a significant jolt to Nigeria’s Hip-Hop scene.

Listen to ‘INDUSTRY MACHINE’ here. 

JELEEL! Will Not Be Boxed

Posted on by Shirley Ahura

“JELEEL, yeeeah!” Belched out like a battle cry on the opening sequence of “RHUDE GYAL!”–so strong a contender for song-of-the-summer that it got a facelift in the form of a coveted Darkoo remix –the piercing adlib welcomes you to the wild and wonderful world of JELEEL! If you’ve been doom-scrolling at all lately, then this trademark tag has likely burrowed itself in your brain ​like an earworm, much like Rema’s anthemic “another banger!” or J Hus’ iconic “Hustla, baby.”

If not? Here’s everything you need to know about the Nigerian-American taking the internet by storm, one chaotic TikTok at a time. Buckle up, it’s about to be a bumpy ride. Enter Abdul Jeleel Yussuf, better known as JELEEL!, the stage-flipping, larger-than-life rapper, singer, and producer who has become Gen Z’s beloved Boy Next Door almost overnight. With a combined fan base of 5.2 million followers, built almost entirely online, JELEEL! has established a chronically online presence. 

 

On Instagram, he can be found taking For You Pages by storm, appearing often shirtless and screaming, flipping through the algorithm with raw, unfiltered energy. Over on TikTok, he’s baked a stroke-of-genius strategy into his promo rollout: injecting his explosive tracks in an unrelenting stream of viral content and trending videos. No label budget. No formula. Just pure vibes, and it’s working.

Standing tall at six-feet-two, the 29-year-old Rhode Island native is gearing up to be Africa’s next giant. A musical nomad, his sound seems to reside somewhere in ‘The Upside Down,’ a wacky blend of Rap that’s sometimes Trap, rage that rocks and rolls, and Punk that is simultaneously Afropop. Diasporic as it is homegrown, he stitches together fever-pitch emo vocals with Yoruba and English, seamlessly bridging his two worlds together. His visuals drip in nostalgic, Nollywood steeze with oiled-up, brown-skin baddies taking centre stage as love interests embracing a youthful, Y2K aesthetic.

Beyond the digital realm, JELEEL! is resonating with a cult following that craves cultural representation without creative limits. His presence is raw, his sound is rebellious, and his ascent is proof of what a new generation of African artists can achieve: a rallying movement for the misfits who seek to break the mould. One that chases the off-the-cuff approach over clout, raging against the machine of the mainstream to foster a new wave and an alternate worldview. JELEEL!’s campaign is fun, quirky, culturally rooted, and unapologetically loud. 

 

 

First off, who is JELEEL!?

JELEEL! is…Jeleel, yeah! Jeleel is a unique character. He’s a glitch in life. 

Why do you say that?

Because people don’t understand me, but they understand me. I’m a juxtaposition. When I’m singing on the track “BANANA!,” “O por, o por, o por,” it shouldn’t make sense cos I’m singing so high, but I’m this big guy. I think people are l still trying to figure me out. They’re like: “Who is he? Where did he come from? Why does he sound like that? Why is he big? How can he backflip? Where is he?” I like that, though, because I don’t want to be too accessible. You see me and then you don’t, almost like a superhero. 

How does it feel to be a glitch in the music industry?

I feel like God put me on this Earth to fuck shit up in a good way, you know? I tweeted something the other day like: “Can you make it as a global act if you don’t have a machine behind you?” A lot of people were like, “No, you can’t nowadays.” Some people were like, “Yeah, you.” JELEEL! is like an anti-hero in the music industry. He shows love to everybody, but at the same time, he’s still aware of who he is. JELEEL! doesn’t make sense, but he does.

Your whole aesthetic feels like one big throwback to simpler times. Who were some of your favourite steeze icons growing up?

I’m a ’90s baby, so I like Y2K stuff a lot. I loved watching WWE. Jeff Hardy and Rey Mysterio. I loved their style. Jeff Hardy always rocked some crazy clothes. A lot of mesh, a lot of JNCO jeans, he was always on some punk shit and I loved that. I loved watching all these Nigerian guys like Danfo Drivers, D’Banj, and Terry G. I love what they wore. They had these crazy wrap-around shades that were rimless, and they always had the big ass earrings on. I love that style. I feel it’s slowly coming back.

 

How would you describe your sound?

Very futuristic. Growing up, I listened to 50 Cent, DMX, but also a lot of the punk guys: Sum 41, Limp Bizkit, Paramore, and Blink 182. My sound is versatile. It’s a mix of punk, a mix of Afro, a mix of disco, R&B, and maybe some trap as well. It can range from a very high pitch to a low alto. I don’t think anybody sounds like me. I’m like a unicorn; I don’t feel I’m underground. I don’t fit into any space. I’m kind of just in my world. 

You’ve been leaning a lot more into Afro-inspired sounds while still keeping that high-energy Rage DNA. What’s driving this sonic evolution?

Because I was doing the rage stuff before this, people were so shocked like: “Oh, how did he switch to this [Afro-fusion]?” And do it successfully, and be independent. I feel like I can always change my sound when I want. It’s like a superhero power. I can always shape shift. That’s not easy to do, but if I could do it once, I could do it again and again. 

You’ve built a massive following independently, with no major label backing. What inspired your DIY approach?

Every time I would work with a label or anything like that, it never would work. But every time I do it myself, it works for some reason. I think your creative vision is between you and God, and when you get a label in between that, that kind of disrupts that; you’re just doing yourself a disservice. It should never be that. I’m a creative, and I need it to just be me, God, and the masses. 

Your TikTok strategy went off. Was it planned or instinctual, and how do you see social media as part of your artistry?

Thank God for TikTok. It’s a really good algorithm that caters to people who might like the music. I was just posting memes on my music, because I felt like a lot of people needed to hear it; they didn’t know about it, and it was a way to get it out. Even from the US, being able to attack the UK or Africa is crazy. Because how are you doing that? It’s kind of crazy. 

What’s something you wish people knew about your story so far?

Doing this independently, it’s not easy. People just assume, “Because he has a million followers, he’s rich, he’s popping.” It’s not like I have an investor giving me money. Some days I won’t eat. Some days, we have to sleep in a car. Even now, I  just came to London on a whim because I saw “RHUDE GYAL!” was connecting. So I said, let me just come here and show face. You never know what could happen.  Luckily, Alhamdulillah, it’s working to my advantage. 

 How important is it for you to create across and connect, both the continent and diaspora?

When I blew up with the diving shit, I felt like a lot of people were telling me who I am and what I should do. I’m an African. I’m Nigerian. So being told to keep making rage music is going against who I am as a person. I come from a Punk background, but love Afro shit. That’s me, that’s who I am. That’s my identity, that’s my core sound. I was even doing Afro shit before the Rave shit. So, I think I’m just going back to who I am as a person. I don’t need to conform; I’ll bring the worlds together. I’m doing what I want to do, and I love that.

 

How does Nigeria show up in your artistry?

In Nigeria, they love me. I mean, the people do. I don’t think the labels in Nigeria like me. The labels in Nigeria love no one [laughs]. I’m doing my marketing on TikTok, and Nigeria is pay-to-play. So they probably think: “Why is this kid just posting memes to his music, and people are listening and it’s blowing up?” 

Honestly, though? Whoever understands the music, they understand it. Music for me is spiritual. I’m a Muslim, so I grew up reading the Quran. When you read the Quran, you’re reading it melodically. Whether I’m talking about nyash shaking or not, it still gives you something… like a feeling. 

Talk to me about ‘NYASH WORLDWIDE!’

Yeah, I love nyash [laughs]. I thought about calling my project something else. I was like, people know the word nyash, but it’s not a worldly word. So, I thought, let me make it worldly. It’s not like, too serious, right? People be taking themselves too seriously. It’s a fun project. I’m talking about nyash and sex and gyal and love and summer vibes. So I was like, ‘NYASH WORLDWIDE!,’ that’s fun.

What’s next for JELEEL!?

I want to be the biggest artist I can be, period. And I feel like I could do that. “RHUDE GYAL!” is crossing over slowly, but I need it to be worldwide. So, I’m just really focused on promoting it and getting it to the right places. I want to help people with my music, to give people positive energy. Any way I can help people with that is a blessing. I started making music because I love to make music. It wasn’t for money or anything. I just love to create. I want to just give people hope that: “If Jeleel! could do it, I could do it.” Independently too. 

Vlisco celebrates Seydou Keïta Exhibition at the Brooklyn Museum

Posted on by Boluwatife Adeyemi

Popular Dutch textile printing company Vlisco was recently announced as the lead sponsor for ‘Seydou Keïta: A Tactile Lens,’ an ongoing North American exhibition of the iconic Malian photographer.  Since its inception decades ago, Vlisco has created a rich legacy in African fashion with its iconic printed fabrics, some of which have been featured in Keïta’s famous Bamako studio portraits over the years. 

Vlisco’s sponsorship of this landmark exhibition, which opened on October 10 at the Brooklyn Museum, further establishes its indubitable legacy while also reaffirming its commitment to keeping heritage alive and celebrating its impact on global creativity. 

“For over a century, Africa has inspired Vlisco’s creativity, and that bond continues to guide us today,” Perry Oosting, CEO of Vlisco Groups, shared in a statement. “Sharing a legacy with Seydou Keïta reminds us of the transformative power of African artistry to shape global culture. Working alongside Catherine McKinley, Trevor Stuurman, and Sarah Diouf reaffirms our commitment to honouring the voices and vision that define our story.”

The exhibition features some of Keïta’s small vintage prints alongside the larger modern versions. It also features never-before-seen film negatives as well as a selection of garments, jewellery, and textiles similar to those that were often featured in his images. The show runs from October 10, 2025, to March 6, 2026.

Shona’s Debut, “For Her,” Is A Tribute To Women Who Refuse To Stay Silent

Posted on by The Jide Taiwo

To understand what drives Shona, start with her hands, not her voice. The Nigerian-born artist, born Boma Beddie-Memberr, has been drumming since she was a child in church. The drums came before the lyrics, before the beats, before the idea that music could be a career. “It started with rhythm,” she’s said before and that makes sense. Because even now, at every level of her artistry, rhythm is what grounds her.

Shona contributes to the collaborative “For Her” (deluxe) album, a collective project featuring various artists from the Voice2Rep 2020 cohort united in addressing women’s rights through music. Her two singles, “He for She” and “End the Cycle,” showcase her commitment to this important cause while demonstrating her unique artistic voice. Across these tracks, Shona transforms rhythmic foundations into powerful narratives, layering Afrobeat percussion, Afrofusion and Hip-Hop cadences into something that sounds both deeply Nigerian and borderless, contributing to the album’s broader mission of amplifying voices for gender equality.

What makes it work goes beyond the fusion, because in modern Nigerian music, fusions are not a novelty. But the intention of fusing these specific elements helps deliver the message in her music, which makes it connected to something larger: purpose.

Shona isn’t new to any of this, though to some she might seem like she’s just emerging. Her musical story started decades ago in church fellowships, long before the digital era of virality. However, she has also lived several lives outside of music — earning a B.Tech in Information Technology, a Master’s degree in Urban Design, and building a solid career with the UK’s Department for International Trade. It’s an unconventional artist profile, and she knows it. In an age that romanticizes the “all-in” creative, Shona is living proof that art can coexist with responsibility. 

On “End the Cycle,” that balance is audible. The track opens with a percussive loop that feels both global and intimate, like something you might hear at an Amapiano rave that turns into a wave of social messaging. Her delivery is calm, deliberate, and quietly commanding. She’s not scolding; she’s declaring a determination to break through the so-called glass ceiling in society that holds women back. The track’s title brings to mind the United Nations gender quality initiative, but it is Shona’s delivery that keeps it from becoming a moralizing PSA. In that sense, it transforms the message into a relatable and memorable mantra.

Then comes “He for She,” where her voice turns from persuasive to urgent. It starts as a startling story of a girl who has been disadvantaged from childhood, a tale as common as time, especially in African countries, where the girl child is groomed for domestic life as opposed to boys, who are typically raised to be catered to by the girl. The track swells slowly, anchored by a syncopated Afro-house beat and a Reggae-tinged bassline that feels cinematic. She raps, while Nanya Ijeh sings the hook, urging you to lean closer and listen to her message. The song wrestles with generational trauma, with the idea that violence, emotional or systemic, is cyclical until someone dares to interrupt it. Every bar and beat points back to Shona’s belief in art as action. You can hear her Worship Artistry Diploma training from Bethel Music College in the way she treats music like a sermon.

There’s also a subtle defiance in how she moves between genres in these two singles, which also shows the versatility in her sound. “He for She” and “End the Cycle” don’t fit neatly into Afrobeats, Reggae, or Hip-Hop. It borrows from all three but obeys none. The Afrobeat elements come through in percussion and give the songs pulse and urgency. The Reggae shows up in the opening bars of “He for She,” and Hip-Hop gives her the license to speak directly, to assert herself in a field that has historically sidelined women drummers and MCs alike. While in “End the Cycle” feels like Afrofusion and trance to an extent. You can hear both grit and grace in her sound: she’s tough, but she’s not hard. There’s warmth even in her sharpest moments, as though she’s too secure in her calling to compete.

It helps that her technical chops back up her message. Influenced by drumming greats like Tony Royster Jr., Calvin Rodgers, and Carlin Muccular, Shona’s playing is fluid and conversational. She’s got Gospel’s discipline, Afrobeats’ drive, and a Jazz musician’s instinct for space.

But the real story here is the mindset, not just the music. Shona is quietly rewriting what it means to pursue music as a woman of faith, intellect, and multiple ambitions. The music industry today appears to be hyper-focused on virality and clout. Meanwhile, music with substance (both in messaging and composition) outlasts virality every time.

In the end, Shona’s debut on “For Her” Album feels less like a debut and more like a statement of philosophy. It’s the sound of an artist who’s not waiting for permission to belong, because she’s already built her own stage from where she’s bound to reach the world.

Listen to “For Her” here.