The increasing allure of non-conformity in Nigerian music
Brought to you by artistic convictions and the post-digital era
In the infant stages of their careers, artists are all about proving they’re worth the attention. For the ones who come in instantly seeking huge fortunes and fame, they have to prove market readiness from the jump; while those who start off using music as an innocent mode for expression, have to prove their artistic chops, or potential at the very least, to the people who are tapped in early. Irrespective of the motive behind choosing to make music for public consumption, no new artist wants to envision their music landing on deaf ears in the long run, and it’s within this spectrum that the initial idea of success starts to form.
Varying from one artist to the next, success is a relative concept in music, but more often than not, it’s tied to commercial gain. On a purely ideological level, there’s something special about music as an art form, however, in reality, everything is subject to the forces of capitalism, and music is not excluded. Adhering to the laws of supply and demand or cost and profit, music is a commodity subject to several factors beyond sheer creativity.
Within this complicated framework, artists have to match their music with commercial strategies in order to be successful, or have a sustainable career at least. For example, homogeneity was largely the name of the game in Nigerian music from the late ‘90s to a significant portion of the last decade, especially in terms of the audience artists can and are expected to appeal to. In that period, where physical copies were the primary mode of music consumption, media outlets such as radio and TV stations not only indicated, but actually dictated who and what was hot. As a result, artists were always vying for the attention of the same wide audience, which inevitably affected how they approached making music.
In its ongoing 20-plus year run, modern Nigerian pop music has been driven forward by a long list of unique and inventive creatives who put out truly outstanding and definitive albums/songs. At the same time, it has also been defined by a constant proliferation of whatever sound is prevalent at any given time, a recurring practice in pop music that is not inherently bad, necessarily, but merely reflective of how the space works (or perhaps, now, worked).
Back in the CD days, and most of the blogging/online piracy era, it wasn’t impossible for artists who were making extra-mainstream music to build a niche, dedicated audience, but it was quite difficult since everyone went through the same promotional channels, seeking the same ears. Because of this, it was almost always either go big or go bust for “alternative” artists, and the proportion wasn’t exactly even. For every enigmatic success like Asa, there were several artists like, say, Silver Saddih and Jeremiah Gyang, who didn’t get close to hitting those heights. To help their chances, some ended up co-opting or downright switching up to more “marketable” styles (Skales, Iyanya, Chuddy K, to name a few), a reactionary move which was – and some ways still is- representative of how artists swapped uniqueness for conformity in order to attain success, or sustainability.
In the last few years, however, the post-digital era has merged the double effect of social media and music streaming, which has resulted in diversity increasingly replacing homogeneity as the name of the game. It may now be a trite narrative that social media and streaming greatly improved access on both sides of the aisles – for artists, who are looking to build an organic core of reliable supporters, and for listeners, who want more than what mass media dictates – but it will forever be refreshing and noteworthy that these two forces have played such a huge role in emphasising creative autonomy.
It would be disingenuous to insinuate that these developments have made it entirely easy though, but the fact still remains that artists now have more malleable tools at their disposal. Using these tools, they can start proving themselves to the audience they hope to attract, while delivering exactly the kind of music they want to make.
The breakout trajectories of Tiwa Savage and Tems, for example, perfectly illustrate the shift in attitude arising from the confluence of social media and music streaming. Tiwa Savage broke out early last decade with smash hits, “Kele Kele Love” and “Love Me 3X”, both power-pop songs which had instant mainstream appeal and went on to become club hits and local radio rotation favourites. Off the back of those, Savage bagged a signing to Don Jazzy’s Mavin records, scoring a succession of mainstream hits on her way to becoming one of the biggest Nigerian artists around.
This is stark contrast to Tems’ breakout. The magnanimous singer came into widespread popularity last summer with “Try Me”, an emotionally charged and resonant song which wouldn’t immediately be considered a mainstream hit, by most standards. At the moment, Tems’ undeniable talent already forecasts a career on the way to the highest pinnacle possible, but she’s made it clear that she won’t ever be looking to re-make “Try Me”; while that doesn’t rule out making music that co-opts more popular sounds, it certainly does mean she’ll be sticking with her creative guns.
“I can never make a song like “Try Me” again,” Tems proclaimed in her issue 004 cover story with us. “I’m not worried, this is a positive thing for me. Now I know that my message will be heard by all the people who liked “Try Me” no matter what I’m saying.” Tems’ conviction shows that she’s not willing to pander or conform – and in the current climate, she doesn’t have to in the same way she might have had to 10 years ago.
Tems’ mindset isn’t entirely alien to Nigerian music. Looking at it wholesomely, Tems is playing her part in a period where the amorphous nature of contemporary Afropop is being expanded and emphasised by its fast-rising superstars. Last year, for example, saw the explosion of Rema, an artist whose multitudinal musical appetite embodies the industry’s growing diversity, and who has made it a point to note that, despite adjusting some of his output for the wider market, he’s expressing himself exactly how he wants. Continuing to show himself as an artist who will not be pigeonholed, this year, Rema has put three disparately sounding songs: the slow and sultry “Ginger Me”, the zoinked out “Alien”, and he even explored Amapiano on one of the biggest songs of the year so far, “Woman”.
This same flair for exhibiting uniqueness is part of what has made Omah Lay Nigeria’s breakout success of this year. The Port Harcourt-raised singer/producer broke into the mainstream with “You” and quickly began to garner attention, however, his debut EP, ‘Get LayD’, forced everyone to sit up and take notice of his superstar potential, and is currently a streaming behemoth. Within the 5-song project (four in the top 20 of Apple Music Nigeria’s 100 most played songs and all five in Audiomack’s equivalent), Omah Lay displays varying dimensions of his abilities as an artists, from inflecting the damaged, bad boy tropes of contemporary r&b into “Damn” to spinning catchy, repetitive hooks on the party ready “Lo Lo”.
As integral as musical diversity and being unique is to their trajectory, it is important to note that Rema and Omah Lay have been positioned to maximise their reach through label support and strong promotions across traditional and streaming channels. While they are proof that Nigerian artists now exist within a space that affords both uniqueness and success at the same time – artists can thrive without conforming – Omah Lay and Rema are also examples of the cost-intensive nature of wanting to reach a massive audience.
The truth is, every artist would like to turn their life into “a nice first week release date,” healthy streaming numbers and sold-out shows, but blowing up is increasingly becoming a relative concept, especially to those who put a premium on making music how they want and don’t necessarily have a deep chest of resources. Years ago, artists would conform in order to adapt to the unpredictable tastes of the general audience; now, artists can play to the diversity of those tastes without sacrificing what makes them unique, scaling their ambition and profitability according to their core audience and its continued growth.
It’s already been established that we’re experiencing the dominance of a new vanguard in Nigerian music, and a defining element of this set is the dedication to a ground game that involves a core base of listeners. Unlike previous generations where artists aiming for prominence and profitability had to try and appeal to everyone, this new set of acts start by finding listeners who identify with them and their music, and go on to build from there. This ideal has given artists more leeway to work their way into their own definition of success and expanded the scope of what it means to be a star.
In May, Odunsi (The Engine) surprise released his latest project, ‘EVERYTHING YOU HEARD IS TRUE’, and for a hot minute, it commanded a high level of attention on the timeline. While it’s an indicator of the artist’s growing yet undeniable star power, the enthusiastic reception is truly remarkable because Odunsi delivered a project that isn’t beholden to any of his previous works. Mashing psychedelic pop and trap with an experimental edge, the 7-song set doesn’t typify the modish sound of Nigerian pop music, yet the impact is undeniable – it’s avant-garde but it’s not averse to commercial success.
In the Nigerian context, Odunsi isn’t really as ubiquitous as the likes of Rema and Omah Lay, whose music dominates mainstream plays, but the immediate aftermath of the release of ‘EYHIT’ reinforces that more artists can finagle success while following the coordinates of their creative compass. Sure, there will always be a prevalent sound that holds sway over large sections of the public, and artists who make those kinds of music will hold command of a larger audience. However, those who operate on the more outré side of the spectrum can also command their own dedicated audience which will likely grow as the artist evolves and develops a reputation for making music that’s not bound to what’s hot.
Another perfect example of playing and wining by your rules is Show Dem Camp, the veteran rap duo who have become the epitome of finding continued success without pandering to mainstream. On the back of their ‘Palmwine Music’ series, SDC have hosted mid-size headlining concerts in Lagos (roughly averaging 2,000 attendees each time) for three years in a row, and they’ve continued to maintain their rap credibility as premium lyricists through their ‘Clone Wars’ projects. In their own way, Tec and Ghost are in the best of both worlds, holding commercial appeal and critical acclaim without sacrificing an ounce of authenticity.
SDC’s model is not the stock type that can simply be replicated by any and every artist, but it speaks to the myriad of possibilities for artists who want to do things their own way without the immediate pressure of being the biggest out. In far more developed spaces where more listeners and concerned stakeholders recognise the full scope of music being put out, artists who don’t fully operate in the mainstream have the ability to command a sizeable following on which they can build illustrious and respected careers.
With artists like Tems, Odunsi, Show Dem Camp, and more proving that being full-on mainstream isn’t the only viable means towards success and sustainability, it seems inevitable that the combination of artistic autonomy and organic profitability will no longer be novel—it will be the norm. And with their growing successes the allure of non-conformity is only getting stronger.
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Dennis is not an interesting person. Tweet Your Favourite Playboi Carti Songs at him @dennisadepeter
ICYMI: THE IMPORTANCE OF A SONG LIKE ‘BODY COUNT’ FOR AFRICAN WOMEN
Afropop is the love child of its many influences
In a reversal of events at the turn of the 2000s, Afropop is profoundly reshaping the texture of music...
Over the last two and a half years, some of Afropop’s biggest stars have denounced the genre to advance their personal agendas. In a wide-ranging interview from 2023 with Apple Music’s Zane Lowe just ahead of the release of his last album, ‘I Told Them…,’ Burna Boy derided Afrobeats for a perceived lack of contextual subject matter. “Afrobeats, as people call it, it’s mostly about nothing, literally nothing,” he said. “There’s no substance to it. Nobody’s talking about anything. It’s just a great time, it’s an amazing time. But at the end of the day, life is not an amazing time.”
Just a few months later, Nigerian music superstar, Wizkid, also disavowed the genre, claiming that he was not an Afrobeats act and that his then-forthcoming album, ‘Morayo,’ would not be an Afrobeats album as he considered the genre – and the classification it infers – too limiting for the type of music he made. Predictably, fans were incensed by both artists’ stances and the casual dismissal of the genre that their statements invited. What was almost lost in the whirlwind of that discourse is that for all the attempts to capture the totality of African music under the loaded ‘Afrobeats’ label, African music has never been just one thing; and, in that spirit, Afrobeats itself has always been all-welcoming of a multiplicity of influences and styles.
From its earliest iteration, Afropop has always been a potpourri of sounds that took influences from various parts of the Black diaspora and distilled them with an African sensibility. The work of early Afrobeats pioneers like Junior and Pretty is a direct descendant of the burgeoning Hip-Hop blueprint of the ‘80s; while the early 2000s popularity of Ajegunle-based rabble-rousers like Daddy Showkey, Danfo Drivers, and African China occurred tangentially to the rising profile of Reggae on a global scale. The mid-2000s to early 2010s saw the arrival of several dulcet-toned singers like Banky W and Tiwa Savage rooted in the R&B and Soul traditions, introducing a slicker dimension to Nigerian popular music. As always, homegrown stars adapted these foreign styles for their own market while continuing to work on a distinctive style that centered genuine indigenous expression and ingenuity.
Over the years, the fruit of those experiments has ripened to produce a scene that’s bustling with life and talent. As the genre has attained global attention, many sub-genres have come to the fore, showcasing the depth of African music on a global scale. If Wizkid’s sonorous melodies and unbeatable charisma made him the sun of Afrobeats in the 2010s, Olamide’s militaristic bars and Pop anthems rooted in their street sensibilities mark him out as the genre’s moon. It was on Oamide’s back that a nascent indigenous rap circuit rested. Taking the mantle of DaGrin, the Bariga-raised rapper who helped institutionalize rapping in Nigerian languages with cult classics like “Eni Duro” and “Voice Of The Street.” Along with the effort of other stars like Reminisce, Phyno, Lil Kesh, and CDQ, the indigenous rap movement gained steam and, recognizing the Nigerian market’s zest for melodies, soon morphed into Street-Pop, a distinct hybridization of local genres like Fuji, Apala, and Highlife.
Inspired by the work of their forebearers, a new crop of artists have taken Street-Pop to new heights. Zlatan and Naira Marley served as a transitory generation; together with Rexxie, they patented a more melodic take on Street-Pop while infusing a devil-may-care disposition that launched them to the top of Nigerian music. It is fitting that Olamide was the one to hand the baton to Asake, the biggest Street-Pop star of the moment. Similar to the YBNL head’s legendary album run, Asake has released three albums and one extended play in three years, each coming out to a world paying more and more attention to his work. Impressively, Asake has also established himself as a global touring star, regularly playing sold out arena concerts across the world with a music style that is rooted in Yoruba oral tradition.
Asake is not spreading the Street-Pop gospel alone, though. Ikorodu star, Seyi Vibez, has also grabbed mainstream attention for his gritty take on the genre. Initially a divisive figure, his 2023 song, “Different Pattern,” saw him reach a new level of cultural relevance in 2024 and his new extended play, ‘Children Of Africa,’ arrived in February 2025, marking a new era in his career. The yearning for a reclamation of cultural heritage that has created a Street-Pop golden era has not evaded other parts of Nigeria. Shallipopi’s drawling, sprawled-out sound mimics the playful pulse of South-South pidgin while Jeriq, hailing from Nigeria’s South-East, has emerged as one of Nigeria’s most acclaimed rappers. Outside Nigeria, there’s a yearning in Ghana to preserve the purity and history of its Highlife genre, an elemental component of Afrobeats. British-Ghanaian producer, Juls’, ‘PALMWINE DIARIES’ and ‘High Life Sessions,’ both pulsate with the beguiling riffs of the storied genre while the work of Nigerian brother-duo, The Cavemen, is reintroducing Eastern Nigerian highlife to a new generation of listeners.
A youth-led zest for exploration outside the framework of Afropop has also produced a sub-culture that rejects the tenets of mainstream conservatism. Beginning as a band of friends and collaborators who prioritized freewheeling experimentation, Alte music has emerged as one of the most important sonic evolutions of the last two decades. First championed by OG pioneers like DRB Lasgidi, LOS, and Show Dem Camp, the Alte community drew in left-field thinkers and madcap auteurs setting the stage for a new generation of stars to emerge from the depths of SoundCloud circa 2016. In the hands of stars like Odunsi (The Engine), Cruel Santino, and Lady Donli, the Alte experiment reached an unprecedented level of critical and commercial success.
Odunsi’s ‘rare.,’ throbbing with influences from ‘70s Disco and Funk, sits in the canon of great Nigerian debuts and Lady Donli’s ‘Enjoy Your Life’ artfully melded Folk music with Afrobeat and Soul across its 15 tracks. Taken along with the work of producers like GMK and Genio Bambino, these acts built a community that successfully created the blueprint for a sound that reflected the tensions and joys of younger Nigerians who saw life in a specific fashion. It even took flight beyond the borders of Nigeria with a young Amaarae cutting her teeth working alongside some of the most prominent names in the Alte community. The inventiveness and clarity of vision that the community prioritises is evident across both of the Ghanaian-American artist’s albums, ‘The Angel You Don’t Know’ and ‘Fountain Baby.’
In a reversal of events at the turn of the 2000s when Afropop was heavily influenced by outside sounds and genres, music from the continent is profoundly reshaping the texture of music outside its borders. Much like how the Windrush Generation and other immigrants from the West Indies helped to introduce Britain to Reggae, Dancehall and Soca, generations of African immigrants are making music that signals their African heritage, with Afropop as a base influence. The rise in popularity of African sounds has helped UK artists mesh the lingo and sonics from the continent into their work, creating a new genre referred to as Afroswing. Taking influences from Afrobeat, Dancehall, and Grime, Afroswing is distinctive for its use of lyrics from Africa with British rapper, J Hus, credited as one of its pioneers. Songs like J Hus’ “Did You See,” Ramz’s “Barking,” and Not3s’s “Aladdin” signal to the sound of the homeland and speak to Afrobeats’ incredible stride to global popularity as a base reference point for global Black music.
Nearly a decade out from “One Dance,” the Drake, Wizkid, and Kyla collab that pushed Afropop into a different stratosphere, the genre is in safe hands with several stars emerging across different sub-genres that speak to our past, present and future. It is perhaps more than the pioneers imagined when they were making music all those years ago, but all the roads have led here to Afropop being a global sensation that offers various forms of expression to a watching world. There are no limitations on what can be done within the genre, that sense of open-endedness and possibility was always our strength, and it’s why Afropop will stand the test of time.
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The Cathartic Melodies Of Mereba
Ahead of the release of ‘The Breeze Grew A Fire,’ we sat down with Mereba to discuss putting together her...
Mereba exudes a palpable warmth. When she speaks, as she did with me via Zoom one evening in late January, she’s gentle and perceptive, speaking in soft, meandering passages that paint an intimate portrait of the LA-based singer’s mind. Similarly, her stirring discography, which dates back to 2013, evokes a keen sense of serene intimacy. “I’m inspired by those little moments in life where you’re like “Ah that’s really beautiful,”” she tells me halfway into our conversation, making sense of the ethereal quality that her music possesses. “It could be an interaction between two people, it could be something in nature, it could be a memory I have. Those are the moments that drive me to go get my guitar and write a song.”
The 34-year-old singer, songwriter, producer and instrumentalist has been writing songs for as long as she can remember. Growing up between Alabama, North Carolina and Pennsylvania, as well as an unintended one-year stint in her father’s native Ethiopia, ensured that Mereba picked up a wealth of influences that would go on to inform her richly diverse and understated sound. After years living across multiple cities, she finally settled in Atlanta where she became a staple in the city’s indie music circuit. “There, I met my peers who I made music with and are still my peers to this day. People like J.I.D, 6LACK and my crew. We all were just coming up during a really rich time of music there so that was a big part of my journey,” she reminisces fondly.
In the years that Mereba lived in Atlanta, she released 2013’s ‘Room For Living’ and ‘Kotton House Vol 1,’ two extended plays that neatly outline the foundations of the balmy and eclectic style that she would perfect years later, leaving ample room for her soothing vocals and evocative songwriting to shine. She also joined Spillage Village, a musical collective that comprises others like Earth Gang and JID, contributing to various releases like ‘Bears Like This Too Much’ and the critically acclaimed ‘Spilligion.’ Following her time in Atlanta, Mereba moved again, this time to Los Angeles, where she signed her first major record deal and released her debut album ‘The Jungle Is The Only Way Out.’
Since the release of ‘The Jungle Is The Only Way Out’ in 2019, Mereba has continued to hone her unique sound, continually experimenting and ironing out the rich textures of her temperate style on subsequent releases like 2021’s ‘AZEB.’ Ahead of the release of ‘The Breeze Grew A Fire,’ her first project in four years, we sat down with the LA-based singer to discuss the story behind her well-received debut, her various influences as well as the process of putting together her highly-anticipated new album.
This is your first album in about five years. How are you feeling?
I feel really excited. I’m definitely excited to give my music back to the world again. I’m also ready for connection, performing the songs, and sharing these new stories.
You’ve been making music for a long time now, but do you still feel any nerves before a major release like this?
I don’t know if it’s nerves. I think I feel anxious about the fact that the music is being released and people are going to hear it. But I guess I’m anxious in a good way for them to hear the music, to get to experience what I’ve been toiling away at and what I’ve been excited about for a while. It’s more like a good anxiety.
I think the first time I came across your music was in 2019. I heard “Heatwave” with 6LACK off of your debut album ‘The Jungle Is The Only Way Out.’ I believe that album was sort of a breakthrough moment for you. Can you tell me a bit about how it came together?
That album coming together was quite a journey. I started ‘The Jungle Is The Only Way Out’ years before it came out. I had left Atlanta and moved to L.A at this point. I didn’t know so many people when I just moved and so I was kind of starting over in certain ways. I was writing a lot of songs that felt really powerful to me but they were sonically different from what I used to make before. I was also learning how to produce, I was in Ableton learning how to make beats and just produce my music. Because I didn’t know so many people, I couldn’t outsource some of these things so I was just experimenting on my sound on my own.
Over the years, the community that I was a part of in Atlanta, everyone started finding their way in music but we still stayed closely in touch even though I had moved to L.A. I featured on a song with J.I.D and that kind of got me back into making music properly again because at that point, I was working random jobs, my car got taken and I had to start taking the bus to work. I was living a completely different life. It was my friends that put me back in the zone. They would invite me to sessions and just remind me that I wanted to do this music thing. Then I started putting together songs I had made over the years like “Sandstorm” and “Heatwave” with 6LACK which we made way before the album came out and even my solo songs like “Black Truck.” Most of the songs on that album had come from that period where I was struggling but knowing I was meant for music somehow.
How many years did it take to put your first album together?
I’ll say about four to five years. They say you write your first album for your whole life. “Highway 10” is the first song I made on that album. I made that song in 2014 and the album came out in 2019. In the years before the album came out I was signed to a bad record deal and I couldn’t get out, I couldn’t release music. All I could do was just create and that ended up forcing me to just hone in on my sound.
After your debut, you released an EP titled ‘AZEB’ two years later. Listening to that project, it felt lighter than your debut which was a lot darker and more melancholic. Do you remember what headspace you were in when you made this EP?
I was definitely feeling a lot lighter when I was making ‘AZEB.’ I felt like I had shed a lot of the weight that I carried during all those years of uncertainty. I was in a much more hopeful place when I was making one-half of the project. The other half was made during the early days of the pandemic so it was like a mix. Songs like “Rider,” “Beretta,” and “My Moon,” those songs represent beautiful, light type feelings to me while some of the other songs like “News Come,” and “Another Kin” are more intense lyrically and sonically.
Let’s talk about ‘The Breeze Grew A Fire.’ How did you land on that as the title for your second album?
The making of that title was different from how I titled my other projects. It didn’t come to me right away and I decided to not force it, I believed it was going to come eventually. So the making of this album has always felt very gentle. In contrast to what I had been through for so many years, I felt like I was in a much softer space creating this album and this feeling of a breeze just kept coming to me. It was also kind of like springtime going into the summer and the idea of a breeze became so prominent that I was going to title the album breeze. But as I continued on the journey of finishing it, it felt like the album was saying something a bit more. I realized that the album wasn’t just about all these gentle feelings and relationships I’m singing about like friendship, family, and my son but these things also inspire me to live with purpose, conviction and to have a spark in me. Things that make people “strong” are inspired by these little moments and experiences that we have and less by the force of trying to make a fire forcefully.
You co-produced “Phone Me” and “Counterfeit,” the lead singles for this project and you’ve also produced a lot of your older stuff as well. I’m curious to know how taking the reins on the production side affects your music-making process in general.
I got really into producing during that period when I felt lost in life. I got into Ableton, playing the guitar on my computer, sampling my voice and just experimenting. So songs that I produced from ‘The Jungle Is The Only Way Out’ like “Sandstorm” and “Kinfolk,” were me experimenting a lot with learning how to produce. With this new album, the first two singles were heavily produced by my co-producer Sam Hoffman. When he sends me things that I like, I’ll add things to them and it could be the opposite as well where I produce a song and I’ll have him or another friend add something to it. That process is personal because I could completely be in my world and get the feelings that I want to convey out through production as well as writing the song out lyrically. When I unlocked that part of myself, it felt like my whole life that’s what I’ve been wanting to do. To be able to make the music arrangements and compositions come to life.
A lot of the time I would start with a simple beat or drum loop and I’ll build chords over it with my guitar. I experiment with writing when it’s bare and then fill in the production as I write the song. They’re a very interwoven process.
I’ve read that you’re heavily influenced by legendary acts like Stevie Wonder and Lauryn Hill. Are there other acts that inspire you when it comes to the production side of music specifically?
That’s a great question. In certain ways, I’ll say it’s the same people that I look up to because most of them produce. Interestingly enough, what I love most about these musicians is that they are very involved in the sonics of the music they’re making. So the people that you mentioned, like Stevie Wonder who mentored me and encouraged me to continue on the path of producing my music versus being a singer who works with a producer. I feel like it’s important to the language of an artist to at least know how to contribute in some way to the sonics of their music.
I’ll say Quincy Jones is the blueprint for me just because of the span of work that he did. He’s the concept of producer I’d like to work towards in my life.
Do you have a favourite memory from creating ‘The Breeze Grew A Fire’?
There are a few. There was a time when I made this song on the album called “Hawk.” The song is dedicated to a really dear friend of mine who passed away unexpectedly in 2021. It was not easy to write and when I first wrote the song, it was sad, slow and reflective of the whole situation. I listened to it after I made it and I started thinking about my friend and the things that he liked. He was a very expressive and hilarious person who loved dancing and dance music. At that moment a light bulb went up and I felt like the song needed to be more of a dance song because I wanted to make something that he would love and not something he would think is corny. It was a really beautiful moment musically and personally.
If there’s one thing you would like your fans or listeners to take away from ‘A Breeze Grew A Fire,’ what would it be?
I hope it brings a sense of comfort and warmth. I also hope it tells a clear story of what matters to me. I just really hope it makes people feel better, that’s really it. I think it’s one of those albums where it’s a personal album for me and I think it’s meant for personal moments too. I hope it lives in people’s lives in comforting ways.
Listen to ‘A Breeze Grew A Fire’ here
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Is the “Mr Money” era over?
Asake broke the internet when he unveiled his new tattoos earlier this year, and he’s doubling down while...
Asake broke the internet when he unveiled his new tattoos earlier this year, and he’s doubling down while ushering in the GIRAN Republic era. On “Military”, Asake ditches the log drums & Amapiano-inspired beats that paved the way to his rapid ascent to stardom. Rapping over stripped back production dominated by a live drum loop, he picks up where he left off sonically on ‘LUNGU BOY’, drawing inspiration from his Hip-Hop influences, as he delivers a defiant, heartfelt battle-cry to his fans and doubters alike.
For the last few months, rumours have swirled around Asake on the gossip blogs, on everything from who he’s dating to his record label situation to his physical appearance, with fans, critics and disgruntled ex team members all throwing in their two cents. Since his emergence in the limelight, Asake has been a man of few words – we should know, we did his first ever magazine interview back in 2022. But on this track, he addresses the chatter head on, opening the song dismissively rapping “ Awon lo lenu won koma so lo/ Tio ba affect bank me, ko ma soro” loosely translated to “let them keep talking, if it doesn’t affect my bank account, there’s nothing to say”. He goes on to flex his financial muscle above everyone in his “set”, despite being “low-key”, while affirming he could drop an album tomorrow with no tracklist, and it would still slap.
He takes a break from the braggadocio between verses to directly shout out his mentor Olamide, the man who gave him his big break. While it does appear their business relationship may have run its course, the mercurial artist is making it clear he remembers how he got here. The Asake & YBNL run will be studied for years to come. In the midst of the continued rise in global consumption of Nigerian music, Asake hilariously raps “Oyinbo koro lenu mi”, a reminder that he will not be diluting his sound for the benefit of our friends in the West.
Quietly dropping the track exclusively on YouTube & Audiomack a couple of days after the 2025 GRAMMY ceremony, in which he was nominated for the second year running, this response may have gone over the heads of those who lurk in the comment sections of the gossip blogs. But it is the most Asake response we could have expected, isn’t it? On his own terms, in his own native tongue, he pulls no punches as he ushers in a new era of independence.
This morning, Asake released another record, the Magicsticks-produced “WHY LOVE”,which notably comes under his new imprint Giran Republic. Reverting to a more familiar sonic cocktail of pulsating log-drums and choral vocals, he sings melodiously,“You know I’m a Soulja boy, but in your case, I’ll calm down.” The duality of man.
The rumours will keep swirling and people will keep talking, as they tend to do when you reach the heights the Lungu Boy has soared to. And for all the aesthetic change and talk of a new era, it appears Asake is going to continue to do what he has done more consistently than nearly every artist in Nigeria since his mainstream emergence in 2022: drown out the noise with new music.
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