It’s nearly impossible for any new artist to evade comparison.
Whether to understand by finding something usual or just fear of the unknown, listeners tend to place the new next to the familiar.
An artist sitting firmly on a background in R&B with subtle influences of Nigerian pop would be eager to escape such quick attempts at judgement.
Instead, within the context of a duet from her debut body of work released on her birthday, Dami Oniru chooses to let her sound and subtle nods to a few contemporary influences do the talking.
Three years after her first single “Iyawo”, Dami Oniru is a long way off from the musician who once shyly described her music as alternative.
There’s little sign of that uncertainty on “See”, a deeply ambient invitation to intimacy featuring Remy Baggins.
Fresh from her newly-released “Bri’s Lounge” EP, “See” is a confident take on the lover’s duet that merges all her influences.
Led by deep synths, Dami Oniru asks an admirer to put his words where his eyes are.
“See” offers a more pop-leaning sound than most of Dami’s older work but she makes it her’s nonetheless.
The basics are there – emotive melodies, honest writing and a staggered build-up to the hook.
It’s familiar stuff – firmly in the lane of peers like a pre-2017 Seyi Shay even. But it is as confident as anyone with decades on Dami as ever sounded.
The lyrics urge obedience to the extent of being outright commands. Just as Dami boldly lets loose with an oddly pleasing “Give it to them” adlib.
Remy Baggins, who also produced the song, is a willing accomplice and lover who meets Dami Oniru halfway in tone and messaging.
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Dami Oniru’s new self-assuredness is most evident at the song’s end where she cheekily interpolates iconic lines from Nigerian urban hits from the 2000s.
Jazzman Olofin’s “Raise The Roof” and Adewale Ayuba’s “Ijo Fuji” help her bring the curtains down on this instant love story.
“See” is a statement of intent from one of Nigerian music’s most exciting music talents.
Listen to Dami Oniru’s new EP “Bri’s Lounge” here.
After announcing himself on the main stage with his debut album, 2018’s “Bad Boy Blaq”, Chocolate City signee Blaqbonez is setting a marker for his year with the video for “Play” that features rapper, Ycee.
“Play” is the first single off “BadBoyBlaq: Re-Up”, a re-working of songs off his debut that is scheduled for release sometime this February.
Blaq embraces his more melodic side as he croons away through a house party replete with the familiar distractions.
The video, directed by The Myth, provides a colourful canvas that sits well with Blaqbonez’s foray into pop territory.
Ycee delivers in one of his trademark mazy runs, as he continues to make a case for a comeback of sorts on his self-owned ANBT label.
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A roll call of emerging talent makes cameos in the video, including Starboy’s Terri, Alpha, JoulesDaKid as well as DRB’s Teezee and Fresh L.
Watch the preppy video for “Play” Remix here.
The moment when everything clicked – if you ask the average fan – was that morning in 2016 when a certain Canadian superstar put out another of his contrived hit singles.
It may have been the name on the credits, a lazy misspelling of “Whizkid” or the voice, a hyper-filtered loop that was as melodious as his core fans knew only he could be on his day.
Whichever way you remember learning of it, what mattered was that Wizkid had been featured on a Drake song one that would become the biggest song in the world.
Afrobeats had gone global. Nothing would remain the same.
In the last two years since “One Dance”, the gradual emergence of Nigerian pop music on the world stage has been defined by the theme of Afrobeats’ global journey.
Two of the world’s biggest record labels have set up shop in Lagos, with varying degrees of investment. Artistes like Ciara and Alicia Keys have turned to our pop music for inspiration, and if you listen carefully, you can hear afrobeats tucked neatly in other work, like in this single by Iggy Azalea.
While Davido sold out London’s O2 Arena last weekend, his 2017 smash hit, “Fall” was sitting pretty at #45 on Billboard’s R&B/Hip-Hop Airplay charts. It’s now risen to #39
Yet, there are questions about how far Afrobeats has travelled and whether it’s really the next gold mine. Davido and Wizkid’s international deals were defined by their labels’ reluctance to invest resources in the local sound on a global level. Wizkid’s 2018 project “Sounds From The Other Side” sold an abysmal 6,286 copies in its first week.
Has Afrobeats really gone global?
How far have we gone on this journey? And what the hell is afrobeats? We answered all those questions that cross your mind when you hear that infamous “Afrobeats to the world” tag..
What Is Afrobeats?
So, strictly speaking, there is no afrobeats. The term was coined by radio personalities and commentators from the UK as a way to describe the new catchy pop sound coming from Nigeria and West Africa in the 2000s.
The name was inspired by Fela’s Afrobeat – his raucous, politically-charged music.
However, apart from the fact that they’re both Nigerian, the two share no similarities. (which is why Burna Boy and many Fela stans such as myself are not fans of term).
Today, it’s synonymous with Afropop – African pop music with influences from R&B, hip-hop and jazz, and hybrids of that sound made by Africans in the diaspora.
Why Is African Music Garnering So Much Attention?
A number of factors. For one, the global music audience is thirsty for variety, and with every new iteration of soulful R&B or trap, there is a yearning for something original. Afrobeats and sounds like K-Pop, which is also enjoying some buzz, meet that need.
What stands out the most though is the renewed interest in Africa. Some people call it the “Black Panther Effect” – the idea that the depiction of Africa in pop culture is inspiring black pride and global interest in Africa. And nothing quite defines us like our music.
African musicians are also now a part of the global industry – when iTunes first launched, there were no Nigerian musicians on the app, today Spotify, a global streaming giant, has an entire hub dedicated to the music of and from Africa.
What Kick-Started This Global Kini?
It’s impossible to tell this story without going through the UK.
For years, Nigerian musicians have steadily cultivated a fanbase there, particularly in London where there is a large community of Nigerians.
About half a decade ago, Wizkid and co picked up where D’Banj left off with “Oliver Twist” by scoring genuine hits in the UK.
Songs like “Azonto” made Wizkid a genuine star and pushed Afrobeats into the UK mainstream.
They also endeared its musicians to a lot of already established UK stars of African parentage.
One of them was Skepta who is said to have sent Wizkid’s Ojuelegba to Drake for a verse.
In return, well, sort of, Wizkid got on Drake’s One Dance and the rest, as they say, is on Youtube.
What Makes Afrobeats So Special?
No-one can make drums sound as good as African musicians. It is a testament of ancient African music that is still present in our music. African pop is built around noisy, multi-layered drums that all but drive the rest of the music. The result is a very immediate sound that fits with the celebratory tone of our music – and the world loves it.
The culture that surrounds the sound is also vibrant, colorful and most importantly, original – a trait that stands out in today’s hyper-gentrified world.
Is Afrobeats Big Around The World?
In the UK, yes. Very much so. To a lesser extent, it’s beginning to grow in parts of Europe with large African communities. In the US, the case is different. The musicians seem to be caught in the wave but the story is not that exciting when you check the audience.
Granted, there are small communities and even cities such as Atlanta where Nigerian music is big.
However, this is more because there are large, often established communities of Nigerians with strong ties to the motherland in those areas, not because the music is big. (Davido lived for a while in ATL and still has family there).
Davido’s “Fall” is getting substantial airplay in the US nowadays and has been steadily riding up the charts. Could it be a sign? Stay tuned.
Is There A Chance Of Afrobeats Being Westernized?
Definitely. In fact, I think it’s inevitable.
You see, music at any given stage is an amalgam of all the influences that came before it.
Take hip-hop for instance; it started as a medium where DJs would talk trash over loops of the break-beats on disco tracks, then it took on influences from punk rock, jazz, added its own musicians known as rappers, became political and explicit, and eventually what we have today, and it’s still evolving.
Afrobeats as it is today, has also borrowed from western sounds.
Its best elements will undoubtedly serve as the bedrock of some future hybrid. It’s only a matter of how and when.
How Will We Know When Afrobeats Is Truly Global?
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There are many boxes that it would traditionally need to tick.
For instance, if Davido’s “Fall” rose by some miracle to #1 on the Billboard Hot 100, we’d have the biggest song in the US and quite possibly, the world.
But in the digital age, the parameters are very flexible.
To have a global sound today would mean something that permeates all aspects of pop culture – when our songs are on the charts, our streaming numbers are steadily in the hundreds of millions, and we can see our influence in everything from television to fashion.
To be fair, we’re not a long way off.
Who’s Afrobeats’ Biggest Ambassador At The Moment?
Depends on who you listen to and what question they think they’re answering.
England’s Channel 4 will tell you it’s Davido, but that’s likely because he’s the hottest name in Afrobeats at the moment. To answer the question, you’d need to consider the person’s influence across the board over the last few years and other factors like the impact of records, collaborations, and more. Two names come to mind almost immediately; Wizkid and Davido. I’ll leave you to choose your fave.
What’s Next For Afrobeats?
The road is long and weary and the journey has already begun. Our music already has its foot in the door and we can comfortably tick attention off our bucket list. What’s next is to maintain a level of consistency, diversify the sound, collaborate across sub-genres, improve the business end of the local industry, all of which will make afrobeats more viable.
We’ve already begun to export the other, more niche varieties of African music which will help project a full-bodied sound.
But there’s a lot to be done.
In the immortal words of one of the pioneers, a certain 2baba as he prefers to be called nowadays, “If I tell you say e easy o, na setup”.
Whle you’re here, let me tell you about a lil’ thing we’ve been working on.
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It’s election season, people.
The familiar issues that defined Nigerian elections over the years are now major topics as the scheduled dates for Nigeria’s 2019 elections draw nearer.
If you thought “vote-buying, rigging and more”, I might have a cookie for you.
In an effort to raise public awareness ahead of D-Day, the Independent National Electoral Commission (INEC) and the European Centre for Electoral Support (ESEC) assembled the Avengers.
The result is “Not For Sale”–a song that asks the people to hold themselves to a higher standard and not sell their votes.
Together, the legendary 2baba, MI Abaga, Teni The Entertainer, Chidinma Ekile, Waje, Umar M. Shareef & Cobhams Asuquo ask Nigerians to believe in the power of their votes and resist any offers to exchange their franchise for instant gifts or payments.
As one would expect, 2baba takes the lead, warning pointedly against getting involved in election violence “because their pikin no go join you”.
MI Abaga reminds the listener that the onus lies on the people to vote for the leaders they want.
Chidinma and Waje then offer their two cents, while wearing their tribal identities with pride.
“Not For Sale” makes an effort to be deliberately inclusive as all geo-political zones are represented in the line-up.
Yet, its voice is clearly targeted at one group: the youth.
It is a vital consideration considering over 60% of registered voters for the coming elections fall in that class.
Teni sings at some point, “No let them take your vote from you, na your future be that”.
It is a message that would only make sense if it was directed at her younger listeners.
This union of entertainment and civic education is not new territory in any sense.
2baba, for instance, uses his art and influence to draw attention to ills and encourage youth participation in elections.
It is worth noting though that this is a non-partisan offering. In that sense, it is a stark departure from the 2015 elections where many artistes proudly represented various parties.
Questions are constantly asked about entertainers and their reluctance to get into the political arena.
And while there is room for progress, it’s refreshing to see a few focused on the bigger picture.
Watch the music video for “Not For Sale”, produced by Lydia Idakula Shobogun and directed by Bobby Hai.
The streets are taking over… again.
Among the many trends that have defined Nigerian pop music in the last year or so, street culture’s grand entry into the mainstream is arguably the most influential.
The story began with Small Doctor’s seminal anthem “Penalty” and peaked in 2018 with the invasion of shaku-shaku and all its attendant elements.
In 2019, it has continued with the rise and rise of Zanku and its progenitor, Zlatan Ibile.
Amidst all this, Barry Jhay has steadily worked his way into the ears of anyone who cares to listen or is just lucky enough to live near a barbershop or one of the few remaining physical record stores.
The singer first caught most ears with 2018’s sleeper hit, “Aiye”, a rousing call about life and the unseen forces that control it, made even more urgent by his piercing voice.
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His newest single, “Tomorrow” follows a similar template by addressing another concept rooted in Yoruba tradition – the idea of fate and that, for good or bad, no-one knows tomorrow.
Barry Jhay begins by addressing our inner desires for a better day – “Brother, stop worrying, tomorrow will be better”, he calls to those devoid of hope or living in that fear that things will never get better.
But he is also wary of our tendency to get lost in the day’s blessings when they eventually show up.
He asks those with many to give as “If you do bad today, you go see bad tomorrow”.
Antras, a veteran of Lagos’ underground scene who has produced for everyone from Daboy to Q-Dot, lets the drums do the talking on a quite casual beat.
Barry’s taste for music that admonishes offers a throwback to the era of greats like Ebenezer Obey and his father, Chief Sikiru Ayinde Barrister whose classics like “The Horse, The Man and the Son” and “E Jeka Sere” have become part of our folklore.
As the song winds down, Barry commits himself and his future into God’s hands.
It is a fitting end – as if to emphasize that even he is well aware that none of us, however talented or gifted, is completely in control of what each day brings our way.
Mitch Angelo is, first and above all else, a storyteller.
Born Mitchell Okorie, the rapper began making music as an undergrad and gradually found his voice by collaborating and experimenting with his older brother’s equipment.
His music has now evolved into a sharp take on his experiences navigating life in his early 20s in today’s Nigeria.
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Making hip-hop in Nigeria comes with its own cross.
A good place to start would be the unspoken fact that Nigerian musicians, however adventurous, often have to restrict themselves to certain limitations when making hip-hop for a Nigerian audience.
As obvious as it seems, it is a principle that even greats like MI Abaga acknowledge as necessary if any rapper wants to make that transition into the mainstream that we have come to describe as ‘blowing’.
For Mitch, an artiste who describes himself as someone who “likes to think about broadly about issues and ideas that are universal”, it could pose a conundrum.
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Mitch side-steps this in a somewhat obvious way. He addresses larger than life concepts like desire, need and poverty by making them personal.
These first-person stories are tied together by a love of soulful instrumentation and vivid, relatable scenarios.
Listen closely and you can hear the influence of J.Cole and to a lesser extent, Eminem in his narratives.
The result is music that is melancholy with subtle undertones of hope and progress.
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Take one of his fan favourites, “Jealousy“, where he is one-half of a relationship interrupted by a conniving bestie.
Mitch’s most recent offering, “Last Minute 2” tackles faith, family and ambition in the same personal tone.
It’s a project that evinces Mitch’s ability to make any story his own.
Mitch Angelo will make you ask serious questions of yourself, but when things finally check out, his music will serve a reminder of what it took to get where you are.
Ycee must have gotten tired of hearing people asking him to rap again.
During a conversation in the first half of 2019, I asked him if he felt any need to respond to the endless requests for him to return to rapping, or make a song like Jagaban.
His answer on the day was vague – something along the lines of “I’m an artist. Nobody should put me in a box”
Months later, it would appear he has finally answered the question.
In celebration of his 26th birthday, Ycee lets the bars guide him once again on “Balance”, his first release since starting his ANBT label.
Full of braggado, chest-thumping affirmations and “owo ati swagger – no Cartier”, “Balance” reminds the fans, and Ycee himself, of what can happen when the self-styled Omo Alhaji gives in to his hip-hop inclinations.
The song’s frantic pace is a reminder so obtrusive that fans on social media responded with tweets implying that Jagaban is back.
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You could say Ycee hasn’t sounded this confident since “Jagaban” and you’d be right.
It takes nothing away from his growth over the years – pushing his limits has helped Ycee morph into a genre-bender in his own right with hits like “Tropicana Fruit Juice” and “Juice” under his belt.
It is somewhat fitting that Ycee chose to call this one “Balance”.
The image that sticks in your mind after the first listen is the same as the cover art.
A feeling that Ycee can find a place in the middle–between this fan-favourite boisterous flow and his more laid-back, ambient sensibilities.
The music of indie folklore singer/songwriter, Mo’believe is heavily influenced by his Yoruba roots.
It draws inspiration from the beautiful noise of his immediate environment and all the many stories that it manages to drown out.
With just two years under his belt, Mo’believe’s only just begun to make waves in Nigeria’s underground music space.
But to find his first announcement of sorts, you’d have to go back to 2017’s “Ise Aje” where he sings a folk number about his daily grind and the hope that pushes him through life as a hustler in Lagos.
This inclination to comment on the common man’s daily struggles is the core of Mo’believe’s artistry.
So much so that he says “he hopes to evolve to the point where his music becomes urban folklore”.
You and I know the legends whose music has made it into that realm.
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Names like Sunny Ade, Ebenezer Obey, Victor Uwaifo, IK Dairo, Fela Kuti and 2baba come to mind, and that’s no reach.
Nowhere is this ideal more evident than on “Ariwo Eko”, the 2018 EP whose title translates to mean “The Noise of Lagos”.
Over seven tracks and one interlude, Mo’believe documents life in the city of excellence, where noise is a language, hustle is a lifestyle and “vehicles only communicate with their horns and the occasional swearing of the driver”.
In the music video for one of the project’s standouts, POVERTY, Mo’Believe is a ghostly spectator commenting on how poverty awakens our base instincts.
As Native Mag’s Debola Abimbolu describes, “Mo’believe is a singer and songwriter who makes smart indie-pop songs that everyone and their mothers will love.”
Listen to “Ariwo Eko” as a statement of intent and you can only be excited for the kinds of stories Mo’believe is going to tell.
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Sooo… That’s not all. While you’re here, I’d like to make you an offer you can’t refuse.
You’re here because you like to find new and interesting music or you’re a Zikoko fan, or most likely, both.
Because we care about our own, what if we could exchange the best new music, serve you insider gist, straight-to-the-point deep dives on the most important pop trends and everything you need to stay on game in one place.
For years, there’s been a lot of buzz around the University of Lagos and its community of emerging musicians. And rightly so.
Besides sitting in the heart of Yaba, one of the most culturally vibrant suburbs in Lagos, UNILAG has become an assembly line for creative talents, particularly in music. The list is long, but somewhere in contemporary times, names like Ycee, Vector, Lil Kesh and Reekado Banks show up.
If you believe the hundreds of students who throng to every performance and hound his social media, Magixx will be the next name to join that list.
When he’s not taking mass communication classes, 20-year-old Alexander Adelabu is evolving to that sweet spot where raw vocal power meets the love of hip-hop.
In some ways, Magixx may feel rough at the edges.
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But in his best moments, he connects to personal struggles, ambition and hopes like on the unreleased “Eyan Giga”.
A typical performance sees him hit high notes, just before relaxing into a half-sung flow that betrays his influences–Eminem, MI Abaga, Lil’ Wayne.
As he tries to meander his way, UNILAG’s biggest gift to him has been a loyal, almost fanatic fanbase that has cheered him through every landmark.
He’s also gotten a few of today’s pop acts in his corner.
There are rumours of a collab with Mayorkun. Rapper Zlatan Ibile is also a big fan.
Magixx has a way yet to go. We’re excited to see what’s next.
Falz’s fourth studio album leaves little to the imagination.
The lead and only single, Talk is Falz pointing fingers as he runs through Nigeria’s most salient problems.
On the day it was released to a social media frenzy, Falz also shared the album jacket, designed by Lemi Ghariokwu, most known for his work for Fela Kuti.
He is also featured on the album. The title, however, gives it all away.
If the album’s title “Moral Instruction” suggest a pious class on Nigeria’s woes and how we’re responsible for the mess we find ourselves in, that’s because it is.
By now, such social commentary is not unexpected from Falz.
You’d have to go as far back as his debut “Wazup Guy” to find what could well count as his first politically-charged song.
On “How Far” featuring Sir Dauda, Falz manages to express genuine shock that the same people have been at the country’s helm for generations.
He then goes on–”They say we go write the future, them no give us pen/Give it up for VIPs, them be our problem/Vagabonds in power, as Fela called them“.
In the years since, Falz has come to embrace commentary and offer his own two cents–most notably on “This is Nigeria”–on issues of cultural and social relevance.
“Moral Instruction” comes at a time where he is a forerunner in the conversation about activist musicians and a new Fela.
It is only fitting then that the album’s opener “Johnny” is led by a boisterous sample of Fela Kuti’s “Johnny Just Drop”.
The story of a young graduate shot by an insecure, trigger-happy police officer is all too familiar to the average Nigerian.
Stellar production by TMXO puts the song at a confluence – Falz’s delivery assures you that this is hip-hop, yet there is that indisputable bounce on the guitar that makes you want to swing and lose yourself.
But there is nothing to swing to. This is, at its core, a sad song.
On the first verse, Falz makes references to the seemingly endless violence in Jos–“Dem kill am for Jos for no just cause/nobody fit comot for house, who born us?“.
He proceeds to narrate the moment when Johnny dies – “una don run go chop, Oya give me my own share/before them talk one, he say ‘shut up!’/who dash you liver/talk small, I go cock gun/small time, e don pull trigger”.
It is in moments like this, when Falz passionately addresses the violent inanities and the lack of decorum that have become part of life in Nigeria, that the album works best.
On “Talk”, he points the finger at the usual suspects – politicians, religious leaders, the regular man and his apathy as reasons for the state of the nation.
“Amen” is where he comes the men at the helm of wealthy religious institutions whom he sees as jet-setting swindlers selling hope for donations and Sunday offering.
“Take our offering set up uni/and your church members no fit afford the school fees” is a line that should incite some conversations in a few Alumni Whatsapp groups.
In an industry helmed by flamboyant stars making assembly-line pop music, Falz is eager to be seen as the one directly addressing issues we have grown numb to.
It is as he emphasises at he ends “Talk” with one final confession–”na me talk am”.
It is when this eagerness veers into contentious territory, that Falz’s brand of activism becomes problematic.
This brand of moral instruction turns a familiar chapter on “Talk”–where he continues a pattern of berating sex work with the lines–”Instead make you work, you dey find Alhaji/Eh eh, you dey find Alhaji/You come turn your body to cash and carry/Eh eh cash and carry“.
His insistence on addressing sex work as an immoral symptom of greed has drawn criticism.
But the outrage became much louder after journalist Joey Akan posted a video of him explaining his distaste for ‘transactional sex’ (amidst several questionable uses of the term “feminist”) at his listening party–which is being interpreted as a sense of entitlement to women’s bodies.
The problem with using morality as a lens is that it is entirely subjective and constantly evolving.
Our ideas of good and bad overlap at obvious points –bad governance, corruption, murder–but at others, holding one’s beliefs over another’s can reek of self-righteousness.
Unlike his appraisal of religion, Falz’s personal opinion about sex work refuses to explain how it sits in the larger context of societal ills and the sorry state of our nation.
The reality of sex work in Nigeria, more often than not, is the result of too many social factors.
Falz addresses some of them but others, like simple choice and outdated laws are beyond his scope on the album.
However one may feel about ‘transactional sex’ though, we cannot strip people of their right over their own bodies.
Falz’s approach is problematic – but not fatal.
That’s because “Moral Instruction” and the incisive political critique it pulls off is held together by some very good music.
Trap meets Fela’s disruptive energy on “Follow Follow” via a sample of the classic “Zombie”.
The result is a song that has the potential to distract you from the fact that 30 years after, we, not soldiers, are the zombies here.
“Amen” is as rich as red velvet cake. It is led by a poignant sample of Fela’s “Coffin For Head of State”, and thickened with excerpts from interviews and Falz at his most lyrical in years.
In an important election year, Falz’s moral instruction is a reminder that we have become all too comfortable in this dysfunctional society we’ve made for ourselves.
At its best, it is militant and demanding. At its most controversial, it is another’s can and nearly disappointing.
For everything he does to address our collective apathy, his choice to point fingers at perceived wrongdoers on the basis of his own opinion feels like an easy way out.
To his credit, Falz seems to acknowledge this on the album’s final track where he says “After all is said and done/I do not have the right to direct the finger of guilt or the look of contempt at my guy/for even I can barely see through the speck in my eye” but it’s a little late.
It is almost a given that this album will be defined by the nuance in the conversations it has and inspires.
It makes the album more apt for the times than we could have guessed.
The curse of morality is that even though we all agree certain things are wrong, no-one, not even Falz or the funky ghost of Fela’s activism is ever absolutely right.
