The CEO: Remembering the legend of DaGrin, Nigeria’s first street superstar
Stories and quotes from Naeto C, Loose Kanyon, D-O and more
In just over a year of prominence, DaGrin changed the face of rap music in Nigeria, and by extension, all of the entire musical soundscape in West Africa. Prior to his phenomenal and abruptly truncated run, there were rappers doling out their raps in their native languages and even scoring hit songs—Lord of Ajasa and Mr Raw (aka Nigga Raw) are two quick examples that come to mind. What they never managed to attain was a wholesome level of critical respect and commercial success that cut across the spectrum of music listeners. DaGrin reached those heights, and then some.
Today marks a decade since Oladapo Olaonipekun’s tragic passing, but his name has yet to be forgotten. He didn’t just attain success, he won the type of approval that was unprecedented for indigenous rappers at the time. DaGrin spoke the language of the streets, and told the stories of the majority who were routinely underrepresented in the mainstream; that’s the norm nowadays. He is the catalyst behind the movement that’s still sometimes shunned but has only continued to grow its impact on contemporary Afropop.
Sonically, DaGrin was stylistically different from the current crop of high-flying street-bred artists that he unknowingly paved the way for, and rightfully so—he came of age in the era where 50 Cent reigned supreme, and it influenced his own style. At that, the aftershock of his success and attitude has continued to directly and indirectly impact those who have come after him. You can hear the influence of his agile flow in a rapper like Zlatan, while his authenticity echoes in the irreverent but relatable energy of rappers like Prettyboy D-O and Kida Kudz.
Music from the continent is being consumed at a larger and faster pace than ever before. Due to streaming capabilities, social media and the general inter-connectedness of the world in the 2020, a hit record in Lagos is more than likely to be a hit record in London and New York, too. Although DaGrin was sadly not able to utilise the tools and reach available to artists today, it is without question that he paved the way for an entire generation of musicians from Nigeria, spanning multiple genres, to be true to themselves.
To remember him, we spoke to artists, label executives, radio owners and friends of DaGrin, about his rise, his legacy and what made him so special.
Loose Kanyon
Rapper, Co-Founder 100 Crowns Ent.
“The rise of DaGrin was really interesting to watch. He was one of those guys that had been rapping his ass off for a little bit, and you just knew that when he got that one record, he was out of here—which is what happened with “Pon Pon Pon”. Most people who heard that single thought that he was an overnight success, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. He had been killing the features and working his way up, he had “Efimile” with YQ, so when he got with Sossick, he was out of here. And the video also did justice to the song, it portrayed him in the most authentic light of who he was—he was a street dude and a proper Lagos boy. People gravitated towards him and his story.
Let me tell you this story. I started doing Wax Lyrical—a now-defunct bi-weekly hip-hop live show—at Koko lounge. At the time, Koko lounge was a buzzing joint in Lagos and artists used to come through and do whatever. DaGrin is there on the night I started doing Wax Lyrical, maybe on a date ‘cos he had a lady with him. He got a bottle of Guinness, sitting down in the corner and minding his business. The show starts, the DJ is playing the records and I’m rapping my ass off and stuff. Clearly, he wanted to be a part of it and he asked for a mic, and we started going back-and-forth. My Yoruba has never been great, but you could tell that this guy was just great at what he does, and he was electrifying the crowd. He did that for about thirty minutes, went back to his corner and left when he was done. It was so genuine and so original to me, ‘cos people were so hype about him.
It’s such a shame we lost him when we did, ‘cos he was just about to start properly dominating and killing the game. But, I mean, his legacy is forever written in stone, it’s not going anywhere. I hope his family continue to have the strength to deal with the unfortunate situation—I know it’s been ten years, but you still keep dealing with that kind of stuff. God bless him and may his soul rest in peace.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FDgGBe7sxro
Olisa Adibua
Entertainment & Media Entrepreneur
If I say I knew DaGrin personally, I’d be lying, but I did have the opportunity to work with him and witness the quality and greatness of his talent. Back in mid-2009, we’d just started Beat 99.9FM, so we decided to do a formal launch of the station in February 2010. I remember we had it at the GET Arena, and DaGrin really had a great performance on that night. You know that corny bit in movies where an artist is on stage and everyone just focuses their attention on the stage, that was how it was. Witnessing the rise of DaGrin was fresh—the way he flowed in Yoruba and street slangs in Pidgin English. It reminded me of when 50 Cent first came up, that raw energy, the grit and the attitude. It was all so infectious, no matter who you are.
Losing him so early was even more painful, ‘cos you have to wonder what could have been. But then, he inspired a lot of people. People now knew that it could be with talent and will, you didn’t have to copy, ‘cos he was a true original. He gave a lot of encouragement to what we’re seeing now, what we’ve seen over the last ten years. Street sound that was only appreciated by a few people has become THE mainstream. Sure, he’s sorely missed, but the thing about people like Dagrin is that they always leave a timeless legacy. If you play Da Grin’s music now, it still resonates with young people of any generation. His legacy is that, he’s left a sound that has grown and become embedded in Nigerian music.
Ehis Combs
Journalist
For me, the first time I heard a Yoruba rapper was AY, and he was a dope MC but the timing just wasn’t right. Then Dagrin comes up, and I honestly did not expect him to have that much appeal at the time, ‘cos the year before he dropped “Pon Pon Pon”, M.I had just dropped and guys like Modenine and Ruggedman were still very much around. Then that single drops and, literally, everything stopped. There was instant shift in what Nigerians were being offered as the way to rap and what could be termed as our own way to rap. Da Grin was the guy with the voice that puts you on notice. He went from having a commercially quiet album to having a classic that influenced so many young rappers. He broke the boundaries, ‘cos he showed that irrespective of the language, as long as you were doing something people can connect with, you had a chance to succeed. I would be lying if I said that without Da Grin, street music would never have gotten this big—that would be unfair to those who did it before him and even after him—but I would also be correct to say Da Grin made it happen quicker.
Prettyboy D-O [Artist]
Rapper
I remember “Kondo”, that’s like the first song of his I remember. I just remember going to the club, that was Rehab at the time, and that’s what the DJs used to play. He’s the first voice of the streets, man. I love Baddo (Olamide) with all my life, that’s my Presido, but he definitely to the mantle—Dagrin ran so Baddo could fly. In terms of legacy, that’s Makavelli, like 2Pac. I say that ‘cause he was from the streets, the streets listened to everything he said, they related with him. He had everything—the attitude, the arrogance—as a Yoruba street nigga. As an artist, [he inspired me] with the attitude and the bravado. With Dagrin, I feel more of a sadness that he left too soon. Long live the legend, rest in peace.
A-Q
Rapper
When I first met him, he had just started working with Sossick. At the time, he had released his debut project and he had one song off it that had some buzz, “Rap Rules Anthem”. I used to record at a friend’s place at Ikotun, it wasn’t far off from Ejigbo, where Sossick lived the time, and sometimes we’d go there to listen to beats or just find out what people were up to. Seeing DaGrin a couple times, his confidence level was really high, he kinda knew he was going to make it big. I mean, there were many people around that area that rapped in Yoruba but he just sorta knew, you know, he had this 50 Cent delivery and he could even switch it up to English sometimes. After they dropped that first single off the second project, it blew up in our faces. At the time, Storms Records were doing their thing, M.I and his guys had recently blown up, but there was a difference when DaGrin came into the game. He represented something—the streets. For those of us that were not posh, DaGrin showed that someone from our kind of background could actually really make it big. Rappers blew up, but DaGrin’s was different, and he became something of an aspirational symbol; he became the standard, he became the bar.
Naeto C
Rapper, Friend
First of all, I must admit that I am biased when it comes to DaGrin, because he’s legit one of my favourite artists ever. Everybody has their own perspective on hip-hop culture, but from my personal standpoint, I could identify with him as an artist, because his understanding of what hip-hop culture represented was spot on, especially in terms of authenticity. I met him in 2008 through DJ Neptune and YQ, and we worked on three records together. His album was one of the greatest bodies of work from a Nigerian hip-hop artist, in my opinion. That’s because, he pretty much had the right kind of ideology, and that’s what drew me into his artistry and made me a fan.
I remember working on a record with him on my second album, that’s the remix to “Ako Mi ti Poju”, and I hit him up to come to Dr Frabz’s studio in Iyana Ipaja to drop the verse. He came in, we chopped it up a bit and he went into the studio with no paper and knocked it out in like one take, which was really dope. Like, my first album, I barely wrote anything, so I admired that we were on the same kind of wave. He’s definitely an artist I enjoyed working with, the few times I was privileged to work with him. When he dropped that C.E.O album, I wasn’t surprised it was that dope to be honest. It was my favourite hip-hop album at the time, I was really excited for him.
I remember being in Dundee hearing that he’d passed after the accident, and I was very devastated, just like any regular fan. I rcback to Nigeria shortly after, on the day of his funeral, and I went to pay my last respects—which is the least I could have done. I really do believe he was a huge loss for Nigerian hip-hop, he is an icon, and what he represented for Nigerian hip-hop, I knew it couldn’t be replicated that easily. But if you look at where street music is in Nigerian music today, my perspective is that he is the template. To have that level of courage, authenticity and conviction at that age and in that time, and to reflect it in the music, it’s genius. From the artists driving Nigerian hip-hop and street music now, and you can clearly see that his legacy is still living on. I’m just appreciative to have had the opportunity to work with him. May his soul rest in peace, and I pray he continues to be celebrated forever.
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READ OUR SHUFFLE SPECIAL ON DAGRIN’S GAME-CHANGING SOPHOMORE ALBUM, ‘C.E.O’
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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