For Rhita Nattah, music—citing Nigerian Afrobeat legend Fela Kuti—is “a spiritual thing.” The Moroccan artist, whose entry into the music industry began with an unsavoury experience and who continues to grapple with bad policies in her home country, has managed to keep her head above water and her eyes fixed on the grand prize: making music that impacts the lives of her listeners. “You gotta respect the art. You got to respect music. That’s what I feel,” she says. “[Music] is first and everything comes after. Money and fame don’t come first. Never.”
Nattah’s debut EP ‘INNER WARRIOR,’ which was released last month, encapsulates all her ideals and beliefs. Over a bedrock of traditional Moroccan music—Aissawa and Ahwach—sprinkled with Western influences in the forms of R&B, Soul and Hip-Hop, Nattah digs into herself to unearth powerful yet catchy songs about self-belief and her experiences as a woman in Moroccan society. “I am gonna tell you things about myself/I didn’t know before/Things I hide from myself, from myself/Oh, some days were dark,” she sings on the EP opener “Garden.” Nattah, who appeared in the NATIVE’s uNder column for February, revealed that she wants to be “a voice for the people, a friend, a sister, through my music and words.”
Born in Fez, which is the oldest of Morocco’s imperial cities and served as the country’s capital at least five times in its history, Nattah grew up listening to traditional Moroccan music. As a teenager—and with the help of computers and YouTube—her music expanded to accommodate more names: Amy Winehouse, Sarah Vaughan, Dinah Washington, Sizzla, Queen Omega. Courtesy of YouTube, she taught herself English (the languages spoken in Morocco are Arabic, Berber, French and Spanish), how to play the guitar and how to compose music.
In 2016, while she was a master’s student, the Swiss electronic band Kadebostany contacted her to write and compose a song for them. The song “Save Me,” which is one of the band’s most popular songs, has ten million views on YouTube, has over ten million plays on streaming platforms and has been remixed by artists in Greece and Germany, amassing over a 100 million views. Despite the success of the song, Rhita Nattah didn’t get any publishing credit. Rather than let disappointment destroy her passion for music, she decided to seek more knowledge about the music industry.
“I spent a lot of time trying to learn about the music business, about author rights, about neighbouring rights, about distribution, but I just discovered with time that in Morocco, they respect nothing about [rights] too,” she says. “That’s why that [Swiss] group took advantage of me because here [in Morroco] organizations are very fucked up. Big actors [and] big actresses in Morocco never get their rights. When it comes to art, it’s very bad. So even though I learnt about the rights and everything related to the music thing, I get nothing [in terms of royalties].”
Throughout her journey in music, Nattah has had Samir El Bousaadi by her side. He’s her musical collaborator and husband. They met while she was a university student in Rabat. Nattah had needed another guitarist for a concert she was billed to perform and found Bousaadi in her Facebook contact list. “He accepted and we met for rehearsals, and then we played together,” Nattah says. “We loved the vibe and then we started meeting more often to play music together, just to discover what we can do, just jamming in general.” Nattah and Bousaadi’s friendship deepened as they spent more time fine-tuning their craft. In 2017, they got married.
Samir El Bousaadi. Image Credit: Instagram/@samirbs
“I trusted him because I really love to work with people who listen to good music,” she says about Bousaadi. “And also because he’s a musician. I love producers who can play instruments. He can play guitar, bass and piano. And for me, this is important. If you’re a producer, you should know how to play instruments. He [Bousaadi] listens to a lot of metal and grunge. He used to play with several groups and when he plays the guitar, I feel it. The way he plays is very emotional and that’s the thing that I loved when we first met, before knowing everything about him.”
Between 2017 and 2019, Nattah and Bousaadi wrote and composed music, while trying to find their unique spot sonically. They also did covers of music from other artists—mostly Nigerian Afrobeats musicians. In the videos, Bousaadi, strumming his guitar, would sit beside Nattah who would belt out the songs. They covered songs from Wizkid, Tekno, Melvitto & Oxlade, Kizz Daniel, American singer Khalid and Syrian musician Bu Kolthoum. Although Nattah received offers from Afrobeats producers, she turned them down because she had no intention of being identified with one sound. In 2019, she and Bousaadi felt it was time for her debut.
Nattah’s debut single “Not the Same,” which Nattah’s friend on social media Jamie Portier mixed and mastered for free, was the precursor to ‘INNER WARRIOR.’ It tells the story of a woman ruing a failed relationship but determined to let go of her hurt and forge ahead. At the time, Nattah had completed her master’s degree and Bousaadi worked as a graphic designer/director in a French bureau in Rabat. When a job opportunity as a teacher (and with great pay) in a Catholic school appeared, Nattah turned down the offer to focus on her music. Bousaadi, too, quit his job.
“It was a very hard and crazy decision because everyone around us was very intrigued and they took us for crazy and childish people,” Nattah remembers. “They were like, ‘You know, in Morocco, we have nothing. We don’t have the industry. What are you doing?’ We [Nattah and Bousaadi] were believing. We had no idea of how we were gonna do the things, but we [knew] that we [could] have something. We just knew inside of our hearts that we can give something.”
Amid the resounding effects of the COVID-19 pandemic, Nattah and Bousaadi were holed up at home making music. They turned their room into a makeshift studio, with two tables, a computer and a mic. Nattah’s favoured place to record in the room was a closet. With Nattah singing and Bousaadi handling production, they finished recording the songs for Nattah’s EP in 2021 and sought the assistance of Talal Bouroki, who with Bousaadi, is a member of the Moroccan Rock band General Rest In Peace.The process of mixing and mastering the songs with Bouroki lasted from January 2022 to July 2022 becauseBouroki had another job and could only work on the songs on Saturdays.
The recording process for ‘INNER WARRIOR’ was heavily collaborative. “Sometimes Samir starts working on a beat and I’m like, ‘Oh, this is interesting,’ and I just start doing toplines and melodies,” Nattah says. “[Then] Samir takes more time to make the beat and then when he finishes, I put words to these melodies.” An instance is “The Calling,” whose melodies for the verse and chorus Bousaadi had created before Nattah infused the words. According to Nattah, it’s all about the feelings the songs evoke in her and Bousaadi.
“On My Own” is Nattah’s most personal song on the EP. She reveals that it is a snapshot of a particular moment in her life as it cracks a peep into old decisions. In the first verse, Nattah sings, “I’ve been smoking lately I know bad (sir).” While she no longer smokes, she defends its importance in the song for her honesty in opening up about a habit she adopted during a stressful situation.
In a 2012 report, The New York Timesnoted that generations of creatives in Morocco earn paltry sums in royalties, even if they are lucky enough to get anything. Under the government, the Moroccan Bureau for Copyright, which “is supposed to find solutions and ensure respect of intellectual property, including the piracy” has been accused of withholding the royalties of artists. Eleven years later, the situation remains the same.
“The main problem [is] the fact that governments before and even [current] governments ignored art and culture because of [religious] thinking,” Nattah says. “And the people who were famous in Morocco [and] came before us didn’t prepare the path, didn’t find solutions, didn’t talk about it. Some people were [also] bought; they [governments] gave them a little bit of money and they shut their mouths.”
The Moroccan music industry has lacked a proper structure to collate the financial rewards that each artist deserves from their works. Although Nattah’s music is played by radio and TV stations in Morocco, she hardly receives any royalties. “Sometimes they choose to pay you with no details like it’s a salary. and sometimes, they don’t. It depends on their mood, I guess. Yeah, it’s very fucked up,” she says. “But I can’t stop making music because I chose this path, you know; no excuses.”
Nattah is already at work on her album, which she hopes will feature guest appearances from artists in Morocco, the UK and Nigeria. She and Bousaadi also have an EP in the pipeline with Canada-based Moroccan act Sami Chaouki. Nattah, who is an indie act, dreams of touring the world and performing in countries such as Germany, Turkey, the UK and the United States, where the streaming metrics say she has a loyal following.
With increased visibility in her career—featuring as Spotify Africa’s Equal Artist of the Month and a billboard appearance in New York’s Times Square—Rhita Nattah’s path to success is widening. “I’m just waiting to see what life has in store for me,” she says. “I’m just working on my music, minding my business [and] doing the things that I love. Hundred per cent following my heart, believing since day one and that’s it.”
Rigo Kamp’s Marathon video is an intimate Afro-juju revival that pays homage to Sir Shina Peters and stamps...
Last Friday, Rigo Kamp, a NATIVE uNder alum and one of the architects of an equal parts nostalgic and...
Last Friday, Rigo Kamp, a NATIVE uNder alum and one of the architects of an equal parts nostalgic and refreshing sound released his self-titled debut EP, delivering a propulsive fusion of Alte, R&B, Funk, and Soul-infused rhythms.
Featuring previously released singles “Morning Sun”and “Summer”, the six-track eponymous EP executively produced by Odunsi The Engine sees Rigo lean heavily into his element as a sonic alchemist, jumping from silky falsettos to gritty grooves without losing an ounce of cohesion, and ultimately stamping the Abuja-born, Lagos-based singer-songwriter as a mad scientist of sound.
Just last November, Apple Music named Rigo Kamp as its Up Next artist, an acknowledgment that underscored his potential and confirmed what the tastemakers and underground scene already knew. Weeks later, he delivered an exhilarating live set for Spotify Fresh Finds in Lagos, proving he’s just as compelling live as he is in the studio.
On “Marathon”,the refreshing opener to the Rigo Kamp EP, Rigo borrows the bounce and swagger of Afro-Juju legend, Sir Shina Peters’ golden-era, fusing nostalgia with re-imagination to birth a vintage performance that feels like a private party for two, where it’s just Rigo, and you.
Get an exclusive first look at the video for Marathon here:
The SA house music pioneers are back with a deeply moving and rhythmic new release.
South African house music pioneers, Black Motion, are back with a deeply moving and rhythmic new release...
South African house music pioneers, Black Motion, are back with a deeply moving and rhythmic new release titled “Khululeka.” True to its meaning in isiZulu— “be free” or “find peace”—this track is an anthem of liberation, urging listeners to let go, embrace love, and heal through the power of music.
With their signature percussion-driven melodies and the soul-stirring vocal chants of King Monopoly, “Khululeka” transcends the dancefloor. It is a spiritual and emotional journey, carrying an energy that is both uplifting and transformative. Whether in personal reflection or in the collective movement of a crowd, the song invites listeners to surrender to its message and rediscover love—both within and around them.
Since their formation in 2010 in Soshanguve, Black Motion—made up of Murdah Bongz (born Robert Mahosana), and Thabo (born Roy Thabo Mabogwane)—has become a dominant force in global house music. Their debut single, “Banane Mavoko,” put them on the map, and their albums, including the gold-certified Fortune Teller and the platinum-selling Ya Badimo, have cemented their status as pioneers of the genre. Their collaborations with artists like Oskido and Black Coffee, along with accolades such as multiple South African Music Awards (SAMAs), have solidified their place at the forefront of African electronic music.
Over the years, Black Motion has partnered with brands like Ballantine’s, Sony Xperia, and Coke Studio, and they are looking to partner with more under their new label Intascore, expanding their influence beyond music. With a combined social media reach of over 2.2 million followers, their music resonates with audiences worldwide, uniting people through rhythm, culture, and movement.
Following the release of '888', Kemena reflects on artistic evolution, self-acceptance, and balancing...
A little over two weeks after the release of his first project of 2025, Kemena and I sat down to discuss the...
A little over two weeks after the release of his first project of 2025, Kemena and I sat down to discuss the joys of creating art, the clarity that powers ‘888,’ and the freedom he found in surrendering to his path. Even though we were speaking virtually, his presence feels steady. He is speaking with the quiet confidence that defines his music–intentional yet fluid, deeply personal yet resonant. Over the years, his artistry has evolved, shaped by a desire for creative independence and the pressures of an industry that often demands compromise.
With ‘888,’ Kemena has reclaimed his space. The project neither chases the mainstream nor rejects it; instead, it exists on its terms, rooted in self-assurance. Across seven tracks, he weaves through stories with a sharp lyrical style and layered production, a testament to an artist fully in tune with his craft. In many ways, ‘888’ feels like an arrival—not to the commercial peak the industry might expect, but to something more valuable: a place of artistic certainty.
Standout tracks like “Rainy Day” and “Bola” remind you that Kemena is a storyteller in more ways than one. On “Rainy Day” he flexes his production prowess but the summery vibe of the song does not blunt the sentimentality of his lyricism. With “Bola,” Kemena taps into his element, deploying witty puns and his brilliant approach of social commentary and “I’m not mad, just hungry” is as relatable as it is envy-worthy—to be so intertwined with a lover that they can complete your lines.
Totaling seven tracks with a runtime of 16 minutes, ‘888’ is brief but expansive, a collection of ruminative thoughts, nimble melodies, and declarations of self-assurance. There is no hesitance in Kemena’s voice when he speaks about the album, no lingering doubt about whether he made the right choices, which is the same confidence he’s communicating in “You don’t need me”. ‘888’ is the product of someone who knows who they are and, more importantly, knows that they do not have to prove it to anyone. From the powerful declaration of “I Will Never” to the easy groove of “Evelyn’s Vibration,” the album takes you on a journey. It is a return to himself, a rekindling of the mindset he had before industry expectations clouded his creative instincts. It is also reminiscent of ‘Bond,’ the project that first put him on the radar of music lovers.
“I made ‘Bond’ as a student,” he reflected during our conversation. “I wasn’t trying to be anything. I just wanted to make music. And then all of a sudden, people started calling me—people I never expected. That was how I got into songwriting for other artists. But somewhere along the line, I forgot what it felt like to make music just because I wanted to.” When I asked him how he found his way back, his answer was certain: “I stopped overthinking. I just made what felt right.”
Our conversation, lightly edited, follows.
‘888’ just dropped. How are you feeling?
I feel cool. It’s been nice. I feel like a celebrity, to be honest. I’ve done a couple of interviews already, and I feel like I’m saying the same thing over and over again. But that’s a good thing, right?
‘888’ feels different from ‘Guitars and Malaria.’ Did you approach this project differently?
‘888’ feels like me making music the way I want to again. With ‘Guitars and Malaria,’ there were a lot of industry conversations and people saying, “Work with this guy, collaborate with that person, do this to make the music more commercial.” I don’t regret making that album, but looking back, I think I was trying to fit into something instead of just being myself. I wouldn’t say I lost myself completely but, I lost the balance between the business and my authenticity. I started to feel like my music wasn’t valid unless it was getting industry attention. And for a while, I was chasing that. I was doing what I thought I should be doing, instead of what I wanted to do. I had to learn that I’m probably a project artist. I needed to stop feeling like my music wasn’t enough just because it wasn’t ‘blowing up.’
I started thinking about why people liked ‘Bond’ and, back then, I wasn’t overthinking it. I was a student just making music because I loved it. I wasn’t trying to force anything. But then, suddenly, things started happening—I started getting calls from people I never expected. That’s actually how I got into songwriting for other artists. People in the industry heard ‘Bond,’ reached out, and asked me to write for them. And before I knew it, I was deep in that world. But in the process, I started to forget what it felt like to just make music for me.
Was there a specific moment that made you realize you needed to return to that authenticity?
Yeah. At some point, I just stopped overthinking. I realized [that] I didn’t have to prove anything to anyone. I didn’t have to chase industry validation. I could just make what felt right. That’s where ‘888’ came from.
One of the things that stands out about your music is how it feels both deeply personal and universally relatable. Do your lyrics come from lived experiences?
Not exactly. I think the way my music is put together—the energy, the emotions—is influenced by what I’m going through at the time. But the actual content? Almost none of it comes from my personal life. I don’t write songs like, “Oh, this happened to me, let me put it in a song.” Instead, I take a feeling, a perspective, or something I’ve observed and build a fictional story around it. I also like humor. I like to be witty, to play with words in a way that feels natural but unexpected. That’s always been part of my music.
That makes sense. Your lyrics often have a layered meaning like they say one thing on the surface, but there’s a deeper story underneath.
Exactly. I like to phrase things in ways that make people stop and think. I want someone to hear a line and go, “I’ve thought about this before, but I never knew how to put it into words.” Or sometimes, I just want the music to feel good. It doesn’t always have to make sense, it just has to resonate.
Would you say that’s why artists like Omah Lay and Jon Bellion resonate with you? Because they do something similar with their songwriting?
Yes! Jon Bellion especially. His music is almost like sermons sometimes. He says things in a way that makes you pause and reflect. Like in “Conversations with My Wife,” when he sings, “What if all the things I’ve done were just attempts at earning love? Cause the hole inside my heart is stupid deep” That’s the kind of songwriting that gets to me. That’s such a simple way to express love. He could have said it in a hundred different ways, but he chose that one. That’s what I admire. Not just what they’re saying, but how they say it.
That approach is very present in your music, especially in ‘888.’ What’s your favorite lyrical moment on the album?
It’s a conversation. It’s not one person talking. On ‘I will never,’ there’s this part where one voice says, “The things you want for me, I want it too. The things you like for me, I like it too.” And then another voice—almost like a god-like figure—responds: “Hope you know that I would never say something I don’t mean.” That moment feels special to me. It’s basically a prayer, but I don’t like to box my lyrics in, I keep it open-ended.
With the album it feels like you weren’t just making music but you were reclaiming something. Would you say this project is a turning point for you?
Yes, I think so. It’s not my first turning point, though. ‘Bond’ was the first one. ‘Bond’ was the project that put me in rooms I never expected to be in. Before that, I was just a student making music. Then, suddenly, people were calling me—people I respected. That was how I got into songwriting for other artists. But then, in trying to navigate that world, I lost a bit of myself. ‘Guitars and Malaria’ was me trying to find that balance, and ‘888’ is me realizing that I don’t have to balance anything, I just have to be.
You’ve mentioned that you’re at peace with not chasing commercial success. Is there a part of you that wants mainstream recognition?
If it comes, great. But I’m not going to force it. I know how the game works. I’ve written for big artists, so I know the kind of songs that work in that space. And if I wanted to, I could sit down and make those songs. I could make music that fits neatly into what’s trending. But that’s not why I do this.
Does songwriting for other artists help you keep your music pure?
Yes! That’s a big part of it. Since I also write and produce for other artists, I don’t have to rely on my music to pay my bills. That takes a lot of pressure off. It means I can release what I want, when I want, without thinking, “Will this chart? Will this go viral?”
That freedom must be refreshing.
It is and it’s why I don’t overthink my releases anymore. I’m constantly creating. So when something feels ready, I put it out. I don’t have to wait for industry validation or the “perfect” timing.
What does that mean for the future? More projects?
A lot more. I’ve realized that my way forward is to just keep giving. The Lord has put me in a position where I can create without stress, so that’s what I’m going to do. No long breaks. No holding back. I’ll just keep releasing.
What is the biggest takeaway from ‘888’ for you?
That you don’t have to force anything. Whether it’s love, creativity, or success—what’s meant for you will come when you’re aligned with yourself. And if you have to fight too hard to keep something, maybe it was never really yours to begin with.