Wizkid, Davido & the significance of leaks and piracy in Nigerian music
Streaming currently has a fledgling adoption rate, but its double combination of ease and instant is reducing the bearing effect of these factors
Ten days before release, Tyler, the Creator’s fourth studio album, ‘Flower Boy’, was leaked to the Internet in its entirety. Instead of going into panic mode and bringing up the release date, the American artist barely even acknowledged the leak, continuing with his rollout as though every step of his plan had remained intact. Usually, when a leak occurs, artists and their teams become reactive in order to retain some control, however, Tyler and his team didn’t react, and later on when the music dropped, it proved to be a positive decision.
Following on the heels of his lukewarmly received third LP, ‘Cherry Bomb’, anticipation for ‘Flower Boy’ was quite high amongst his dedicated fan base and within hip-hop listener circles. Due to the stakes, a leak should have meant reduced sales, but instead, the album managed to still gross Tyler’s highest opening week sales and Billboard Chart position at that point in his career. In the post-digital era where digital bootlegging has advanced beyond buggy LimeWire links and severely limited internet bandwidth, Tyler’s achievement was quite remarkable, and he would go on brag about it on the freestyle cut, “ZIPLOC”.
While the success of ‘Flower Boy’, despite leaking, can be regarded as an anomaly, it’s also indicative of the continued shift in listening habits, especially with the rise of streaming as the primary means of music consumption, over the last few years. At the turn of the millennium, music piracy was the major epidemic for the global music industry, and prior to that, CD bootlegs were the main issue when. This, however, wasn’t enough preparation for the rampant format of digital piracy that would follow, with the ever-evolving Internet as the enabler to this issue.
For the whole of the noughties and half of the 2010s, illegal music downloads were the major bane for artists and record labels. The Internet had helped many young people realise that they could get a lot of music without paying, and it showed piracy to be the post-release version of leaks—anyone with a CD could simply rip and upload to a website for thousands and millions more to download. Armed with technological advancements, listeners clearly wanted immediate access to all of their favourite music without having to pay as much (or even anything at all) for it.
In an interesting twist, the same Internet managed to provide the strongest combative measure, through the advent and adoption of music streaming. According to reports, music piracy was declining due to the easy, legal access streaming provides, and that phenomenon has had its effects on leaks. In addition, streaming has provided a savvier avenue for artists and labels to contend with leaks, allowing them control the narrative and spread of their releases, and that’s probably why you’ll find that even though leaks are still prevalent these days, it’s not uncommon for listeners to wait for the official version of the song and wait for the intended listening experience.
In the wee hours of October 30, 2020, Wizkid finally dropped the highly anticipated ‘Made In Lagos’, an album that was becoming something of a speculative myth with each shifted release date. After pushing it back to mid-November from its original October 15 date in solidarity with the #EndSARS protests, the revered afropop artist brought ‘MIL’ forward to October 29, possibly under the duress of an impending leak. At its allotted time, 11:11pm, the album was still nowhere to be found on streaming platforms, much to the chagrin of thousands of fans who had stayed up to catch the release as soon as it dropped.
A few minutes later, ‘MIL’ dropped relatively unceremoniously but to the same level of expected fanfare. As chaotic as they were, this sequence of events effectively combatted the leak, ensuring that a large bulk of listeners experienced the album for the first time through legitimate channels. The afternoon before its release, the Dropbox link containing the album’s pre-release version, sent to several music industry insiders and media platforms, was already being passed around and it was only a matter of how soon the entire public would lay their hands on this leaked version.
We at the NATIVE had been given legitimate access to a pre-release link, I had already listened to ‘’MIL’ for our 1-listen review column, so I didn’t listen to the content of the leaked Dropbox link, even though I wanted to. Part of that was for confirmation and curiosity: Was it the same? Was this album really going to come out? Were there going to be any changes made? Although I drifted off to sleep after it seemed like Wizkid had flouted another release date, ‘MIL’ had managed to get back-to-back spins immediately I found out it was available to stream, early the next morning. The album was really out, and even though the changes weren’t drastic, there were notable changes in the mixes of a few songs. Rather than simply holding on to the Dropbox link, I was much more comfortable listening to the officially released version of the album.
Unlike much of the larger world, the adoption rate of music streaming in Nigeria is still fledgeling. Due to high cost of data in addition to the recurring monthly cost of streaming, the idea (albeit slowly receding) that streaming is a luxury makes it such that a significant portion of listeners still rely on illegal music downloads. Regardless, the impact of the growing population music streamers, both through freemium and premium streaming platforms, has become impossible to ignore. Earlier this week, TurnTable charts reported that ‘MIL’ had raked in the biggest debut week for an album on YouTube NG, and the Burna Boy-assisted “Ginger” made history as the first number one song on the newly minted Top 50 charts, which is meant to be a reflection of the biggest songs in the country.
With these commercial achievements, it seems pertinent to wonder if ‘MIL’ would have gained this much early success if it had actually fully leaked. There’s no definite answer since it’s a hypothetic situation, however, it feels important to interrogate the consequence of leaks within the bigger picture of Nigeria’s evolving music industry. While gathering talking points for this piece, it dawned on me that our local music scene has been built on the back of piracy which is a form of intentional leaks, if you will. In the late ‘90s when eLDee pretty much instituted the Alaba model, starting with the Trybesmen, it was essentially a format where informal distributors paid a one-off price for the rights to pirate and sell an artist’s work.
The Alaba model was the dominant format for music distribution until the early to mid-2010s, with the internet and peer-to-peer sharing technology (e.g. Bluetooth) becoming more popular amongst young people. Powered by a rise in the use of Blackberry phones and other internet-enabled phones, that was basically the beginning of Nigeria’s own Limewire era, instigated by popular blogs such as Notjustok, Tooexclusive, 360nobs and more. In this period, CD sales began to decline and several artists even suffered leaks. I remember receiving M.I’s feverishly anticipated sophomore album, ‘M.I 2: The Movie’, a day before official release from a friend who had downloaded the entire album from some blog to his blackberry. While I would go on to buy the CD on the day it dropped, the ease of playing the album on my phone meant the CD didn’t get that many spins.
While artists and labels continued to sell CDs with the Alaba format, because the Internet use was still very low around here, many people decided to take advantage of these blogs, intentionally leaking their music to them in order to get as many ears as possible. Considering that live performances have always been the more lucrative revenue stream, allowing their songs to roam freely was a strategy to gain people’s attention so they would get more performance gigs. It’s still a commonly deployed strategy, and as a great example, it continues to be instrumental in the infiltration of street-bred music into mainstream afropop—the Shaku Shaku and Zanku waves were carried on the backs of intentional leaks and rampant piracy.
At the moment, there’s no tangible information about the effect of streaming on illegal music downloads in Nigeria. At the risk of being a little too optimistic, it’s clear that there’s a rise in streaming culture, even though it might be taking longer than it is in the rest of the world. The positive implication of this is that artists know that there’s a demographic who are ready to access their music through legal, revenue generating channels. On the consumer side, streaming comes with a double combination of ease and access, which becomes a habit that makes it tedious to go around searching for download links and leaks (in the case of soon-to-be-released music).
Over the weekend, one of the songs off Davido’s anticipated ‘A Better Time’, out this Friday, was leaked to social media, through no affiliations to the artist or his camp. The Nicki Minaj-assisted song has been trailed by its fair share of hype, and its leak definitely got thumbs tapping away on social media. As much as there was adequate chatter on the quality of the song, much of it still centred on its chances for commercial success when it finally saw official release. While there’s very likely unchecked proliferation going on, it’s telling that a leak doesn’t seem to be hampering a potentially huge international collaborations.
On his path, Davido hasn’t done as much as react to leak, going on with the rollout for ‘ABT’ with the recent release of “So Crazy”, the Lil Baby-assisted single that had already been scheduled. In the blog-dominated era, there’s a high possibility Davido would have run with the leak as a single, since it would already be on millions of phones. With streaming, however, it seems as though there’s a confidence that there’s a dedicated audience waiting to listen when the song is officially out, so there’s nothing to sweat.
Using situations involving Davido and Wizkid to determine the implications of leaks and piracy might seem a bit idealistic, since they’re two of the biggest superstars and so many people would naturally be paying attention and waiting for their new releases. However, that’s also exactly why they are perfect examples, because this means the stakes are really high for them. Their different approach to handling leaks shows that artists have increased agency in controlling how they want their work to be received. As I’ve been told by many artists, the process doesn’t stop until the music is out—and even in some cases, after it’s out. No artist wants their process to be disrupted by leaks and affected by piracy, and it should be a bit comforting that these factors seem to be getting less grave with each passing day.
The common trope is that Nigerians would rather not pay for music, but the truth is, music is more or less free these days. While it isn’t entirely ideal from a creator’s point of view, listeners can access music for free through multiple freemium streaming platforms, as well as premium ones for a relatively inexpensive rate. Getting the double positive of ease and instant access to official for next-to-nothing, depending on spending power, is obviously more alluring than surfing the web for illegal downloads. As more people lean into this route, the hunt for leaks and appetite for digital piracy will continue to dwindle, hopefully, up to the point where a Nigerian artist’s album can leak for days in advance and it won’t have much bearing on its potential for commercial success.
Dennis is a staff writer at the NATIVE. Let me know your favourite the Cavemen songs @dennisadepeter
READ OUR REVIEW OF WIZKID’S ‘MADE IN LAGOS’
NATIVE PREMIERE: Rigo Kamp Runs Ahead Of The Pack With The Visuals For “Marathon”
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 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:
Listen to the Rigo Kamp EP:
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South African House Duo, Black Motion, Return With Rhythmic “Khululeka”
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 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.
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KEMENA FINDS BALANCE
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 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.
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