Burna Boy later told Shallipopi on Instagram Live that he acted alone, insisting his crew never touched the DJ, while admitting he gave him 鈥渢wo slaps.鈥� In response, the Nigerian DJ Association announced a temporary ban on his music among its members pending review. Then came the part that soured everything further: a clip of Burna Boy, wrapped in a white towel, dancing to Tunez鈥檚 鈥淢oney Constant鈥� and mocking the fall as a joke.

This brings up an old question in music criticism: what do you do with great music made by a problematic person? None of the usual answers feels satisfying.

You can separate the art from the artists, which is a tidy lie many eventually stop believing. You can boycott, which feels righteous until you notice the algorithm doesn鈥檛 care, and your skips are little drops in an ocean the artist is already swimming in. You can stay on the fence, which works only as long as nobody brings it up at the function. None of them really solves the problem. 

Afrobeats stars have a way of exposing what the scene is built on: the unspoken agreement that talent is a kind of indemnity. A man who can make thousands of people at home and abroad scream a hook back to him in a language many of them don鈥檛 speak is, by the logic of the culture around him, too valuable to be fully held accountable for what he does with his hands, whether violently at Obi鈥檚 House or erratically on social media. 

That agreement can be seen in the bookings that keep coming, the brand deals that still get signed, the podcast and interview appearances where hosts laugh through the beef stories, and the stan accounts that keep receipts as banter fuel for the next got-you moment.

What interests me here is not whether Afrobeats has terrible people in it. Every genre does. Rock has entire canons of them. Hip-Hop鈥檚 relationship with its worst figures is a behemoth of its own. The more pressing question is whether Afrobeats, specifically, has the cultural infrastructure to do anything about them. In 2026, the honest answer is: not really.  Whatever passes for infrastructure is running on the wrong incentives.

Those incentives produce the messy content that dominates our timelines. A fight at Obi鈥檚 House becomes both a news cycle and a marker of being unfuckwithable. A becomes a trending topic on X before the scuffle gets sorted. An . . A . on a record label staff member. All of this now lives inside Afrobeats.听

Violence is slowly shifting from being a glitch in the coverage of Afrobeats to being a feature of it. The blogs, the stans, agenda-raisers and even the artists themselves now wield this ugliness efficiently to produce more ugliness.

The existing structure rewards bad behaviour. Even the algorithm eats it up. DSPs don鈥檛 distinguish between streams driven by genuine fanlove and ones driven by rubbernecking.

So when grown men in their thirties, generational talents with great music, choose violence and public disorder, it shouldn鈥檛 be dismissed as bad judgment. It鈥檚 simply a calculated move from artists who know what this culture will tolerate.

What makes the Afrobeats version of this problem worse than the usual pop-culture one is the intimacy of the music itself. Afrobeats isn鈥檛 really a genre to consume at arm鈥檚 length; it鈥檚 music for enjoyment, weddings, owambes, house parties, raves, and even bad days. And the truth is, the music follows us into our own lives, terrible artists or not.

When a Burna Boy song like 鈥淥nyeka (Baby)鈥� sits at the top of your romance playlist, or an OdumoduBlvck verse is what got you through final year, the question is no longer abstract. It becomes harder to separate the voice from the man behind it, whether he is the one accused of ganging up to beat a DJ or assaulting and harassing a fellow artist and his team. 鈥淚 just like the music鈥� stops working once the music is soundtracking how you cook, unwind, grieve and even fall in love. When you are that immersed in an art form, you don鈥檛 get to hold it at a distance. You are already inside it.

So talent becomes an armour that works in ways subtle enough to be denied. A show booker or promoter doesn鈥檛 say, 鈥淚鈥檓 giving platform to a man who allegedly shot a couple at a club.鈥� He says the numbers make sense. A label doesn鈥檛 say, 鈥淲e鈥檙e insulating him.鈥� It says it鈥檚 waiting for the facts, or says nothing at all. A fan doesn鈥檛 say, 鈥淚鈥檓 defending cruelty.鈥� They say you鈥檙e a hater, an FC supporter, or a Chocolate City plant, then keep scrolling. Individually and collectively, these moves build a wall around the artist that no one ever admits to helping construct. This is how industries everywhere protect their worst people. The difference in Afrobeats is that these walls aren鈥檛 just protecting the artists; they鈥檙e becoming the foundation of a rapidly expanding genre.

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And on closer look, this isn鈥檛 new. We saw it happen with Mohbad. The 27-year-old singer spent the last year of his life telling the internet, on camera, with blood on his shirt, that he was being hurt. But even while he was alive, his pain was processed as content. He died in September 2023, and the outrage was enormous and justified, then mostly gone within months. The case of violence against him, also dead and gone, wasn鈥檛 seen to the end. What remains on record, however, is what the culture did while he was still alive: it watched, consumed and moved on. 

Every viral fight and violent episode since then 鈥� such as the OdumoduBlvck vs. Blaqbonez and Chocolate City, Burna Boy in a towel dancing over a man he had just hit, whatever is brewing up next week 鈥� is the same culture running the same play on a slightly different body. The only difference is whether the body survives.

The most uncomfortable thing to admit, especially for someone like me who still plays songs by problematic artists, is that separation doesn鈥檛 work here, and boycotting is more posture than practice. What might work is smaller and less satisfying. It鈥檚 refusing the idea that talent is a get-out-of-jail-free card, and saying plainly that acts of violence do nothing but short-term entertainment and long-term destruction to Afrobeats and the culture around it. 

Real change, however small, starts with naming the guilty artists and holding them responsible, and treating the manager who got hit and spat on, the label staff and the DJ who were physically assaulted as protagonists of their own stories rather than side characters in endless beefs. No one should be absolved on a curve because they can sing or rap.

An industry that cannot protect a DJ at one of its popular flagship club nights, cannot stop a feud from ending in hospital admission, cannot caution artists who go rogue, has really big problems. Afrobeats has bad apples, as every industry does, but the issue is that the orchard has stopped checking.

The art of Afrobeats is real. So is the ugliness within it. And it鈥檚 okay to be bothered about it. It鈥檚 also, I must say, a fair ask to require the media and music journalists to speak out on these important issues. But Afrobeats is mature, and so are the majority of its stars. We can鈥檛 always be parents to grown-ups who refuse to act grown.

With that said, Afrobeats, in a healthy sense, will only go far when it accepts that it has bad players and reprimands them for being bad. We aren鈥檛 there yet and we might not get there. But the least we can do, while the beat is still on, is stop clapping to the wrong one.

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To draw up this list, I used a scoring framework across ten metrics: vocal ability, cultural impact, commercial success, consistency and longevity, live performance, songwriting and artistry, awards and recognition, international reach, peer and critical acclaim, and fan base and engagement. Every artist was scored according to this metric and the weighted total determined the final ranking.

10. Qing Madi

Qing Madi was born in 2006. Let that sink in. By 2022, her breakout single 鈥淪ee Finish鈥� had gone viral on TikTok and was topping Apple Music charts in Nigeria and Uganda. 鈥淥le鈥�, featuring BNXN, confirmed this wasn鈥檛 a lucky break. Apple Music inducted her into its 2024 Rising Class alongside Tyla, Spotify named her an EQUAL Africa Artist, and she won The Headies Award for Songwriter of the Year in 2025. At 18.

Her debut album, I Am the Blueprint, spans songs she wrote as early as 14. The deluxe edition featured a remix of 鈥淰ision鈥� with Chl枚e Bailey and collaborations with Kizz Daniel. Her longevity score is low for the obvious reason that she鈥檚 just getting started. But everything about her trajectory says this list will look very different in five years.

9. Chidinma

Chidinma Ekile walked into the Project Fame West Africa audition in 2010 as one of 8,000 hopefuls and walked out as the winner. 鈥淜edike,鈥� her first hit song, became her signature, and the nickname Miss Kedike stuck. It becomes more of a thing like, 鈥渢his babe can sing.鈥� With her angelic voice, she racked up hit after hit: 鈥淓mi Ni Baller,鈥� 鈥淔allen in Love,鈥� 鈥淥h Baby鈥� with Flavour and 鈥淛ankoliko鈥� with Sound Sultan.

In May 2021, she announced she was leaving secular music entirely to focus on gospel music and ministry. She signed with EeZee Concepts and released worship tracks like 鈥淛ehovah Overdo鈥� and 鈥淜o S鈥橭ba Bire鈥�, which have earned her a new audience without erasing what she built before. Whether Chidinma is singing about love or leading worship, her voice remains the same. She鈥檚 versatile and brave enough to use her voice on their own terms.

8. Seyi Shay

By 14, Seyi Shey was touring the world with the London Community Gospel Choir. She signed a deal with a label affiliated with George Martin (the man who produced The Beatles), joined the group From Above managed by Mathew Knowles, supported Beyonc茅 on her 鈥淚 Am鈥︹�� world tour, and wrote songs for Mel C of the Spice Girls. She did all these before most Nigerians even knew her name.

When she relocated to Nigeria in 2011, 鈥淚rawo鈥� earned her the Next Rated nomination at The Headies 2013. Her debut album, Seyi or Shay, features Wizkid, Flavour, and Femi Kuti. She has also released songs with gripping vocal moments such as 鈥淩ight Now,鈥� 鈥淵olo Yolo,鈥� and 鈥淎ir Brush鈥�, which are relatively popular. She later served as a judge on Nigerian Idol. She might be on a (probably deliberate) hiatus from the spotlight, but she isn鈥檛 forgotten, and her talent remains undeniable.

7. Omawumi

Omawumi walked out of Idols West Africa in 2007 as first runner-up, and from that moment, it was clear she wouldn鈥檛 be easily forgotten. 鈥淚n the Music鈥� shows off her vocal dexterity; 鈥淚f You Ask Me鈥� is one of the most quoted lines in Nigerian pop culture. 鈥淢egbele鈥� showcases the soulful, roots-oriented side of her artistry. Her voice effortlessly pulls from highlife, soul and Afrobeats.

Like Waje, Omawumi鈥檚 talent far exceeds her commercial metrics. She has won The Headies Award for Best R&B/Pop Album, acted in films like The Bling Lagosians, and her live performances consistently leave audiences genuinely moved. But Omawumi is a star because of her voice. She remains one of the most genuinely gifted vocalists Afrobeats has ever produced.

6. Niniola

Niniola Apata is the queen of the Afro-house crossover, and nobody else is even close. She came through Project Fame West Africa in 2013, and that live vocal training show. Niniola鈥檚 voice is commanding. 鈥淢aradona鈥�, produced by Sarz, is a dancefloor hit with a vocal performance that鈥檚 appealing and seductive. The track鈥檚 success led to a remix by DJ Snake, which boosted her international profile. Her albums This Is Me and Colours and Sounds showcase a serious range, from the uptempo madness of 鈥淏oda Sodiq鈥� to smoother, introspective moments like.

While most female Afrobeats artists operated in the R&B-pop lane, Niniola took a hard left into house music, creating a sound that belongs entirely to her.

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5. Waje

If we鈥檙e talking about vocal power that induces goosebumps, Waje is there. Her range is staggering, her control is surgical, and so is her ability to carry emotion through a note or two. If you鈥檙e in doubt, listen to 鈥淪o Inspired鈥� or 鈥淚 Wish鈥� and feel something. Her work on 鈥淩ight Here鈥� with 2Baba and solo tracks like 鈥淐oco Baby鈥� show her versatility. Waje is a vocalist鈥檚 vocalist.

Though Waje has been famously underserved by the commercial side of the industry, and she has spoken openly about considering quitting music, she remains respected and revered. She coached on The Voice Nigeria, mentoring the next generation, and remains one of the artists to call when there鈥檚 a need for a voice that can carry a chorus.

4. Simi

Simi鈥檚 voice is unmistakable. There鈥檚 a sweetness and clarity to her voice that鈥檚 difficult to replicate. She鈥檚 the kind of artist who gets you groovy with her melodies and also the kind you fully appreciate, especially when you sit down and actually listen. Her lyricism carries a specificity that sets her apart. The mastery of language and the relatability of an average Nigerian person鈥檚 romantic experience are impressive. 鈥淛oromi,鈥� 鈥淛AMB Question,鈥� and 鈥淪mile for Me鈥� are songs she has written about love and daily life with a tenderness that makes you feel like she鈥檚 talking directly to you. And it doesn鈥檛 stop here.

鈥淒uduke,鈥� the lullaby she wrote for her unborn daughter, became one of Nigeria鈥檚 most-streamed songs of that year, and it crossed over to audiences all over the world. Simi might not shout the loudest among her peers, but when she sings, everybody pays attention.

3. Ayra Starr

Ayra Starr didn鈥檛 creep into the conversation when she arrived at the Afrobeats scene in 2019; she kicked the door in. Her voice is husky, textured, and almost raspy, yet soft when the song calls for it. From good time and party to women empowerment to love and longing to coming-of-age, introspection and grief, she has songs with diverse themes that challenge her vocals in different tones. But the Sabi Girl sauce is always there. Songs like 鈥淎way鈥�, 鈥淏loody Samaritan,鈥� 鈥淪ability,鈥� 鈥淥run鈥� and 鈥淗ot Body鈥� confirm she鈥檚 one hell of a singer.

Her hit single 鈥淩ush鈥� made her the youngest African female artist to surpass 100 million YouTube views. A Grammy nomination, collaborations with Kelly Rowland and Wizkid, and international tours. All of this, while still in the early chapters of her career, is impressive. Her longevity score is naturally lower, but everything else is stacking up at a pace that should terrify every other artist on this list. If she sustains this trajectory, the number one spot will be a possibility.

2. Asa

Asa鈥檚 catalogue is evidence that the singer-songwriter and multi-instrumentalist doesn鈥檛 oversing or make music only for hits. She sits inside the song and lets every word do its work. 鈥淛ailer,鈥� on a deeper look, is a protest song, but disguised as a folk ballad, and it鈥檚 a national hit. From 鈥淏e My Man鈥� to 鈥淔ire on the Mountain鈥� to 鈥淪atan Be Gone鈥�, every song is a story.

She writes everything she sings, her albums are conceptually rich, and her live performances are legendary. She has won France鈥檚 Prix Constantin, performed on the biggest stages in Europe and Africa, and maintained a career spanning nearly two decades without controversy. When you think of Asa, she鈥檚 a voice and an icon of substance that always finds its audience.

1. Tiwa Savage

Tiwa Savage鈥檚 voice is warm, honeyed and flexible. She can rock Afrobeats, R&B, pop, dancehall and street-hop like the MOTHER that she is. She鈥檚 the Queen of Afrobeats, and it’s not only because she鈥檚 been around for a minute. Before she became a household name, she was writing songs, backing up Whitney Houston, and training at Berklee College of Music. From 鈥淜ele Kele Love鈥� to 鈥淎ll Over鈥� to 鈥淪omebody鈥檚 Son鈥� with Brandy, and even landing on Beyonc茅鈥檚 The Lion King: The Gift, Tiwa has shown a remarkable ability to evolve without ever losing the essence that makes her voice special.

Over a decade-plus of relevance in Afrobeats, she has headlined festivals, won Headies and MTV Africa Music Awards, and built a global fan base. In terms of the voice, the business, the longevity and cultural weight, nobody has done it longer or more consistently than her.

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A similar thing is happening to its distant cousin, Afrobeats, but in a different way. No Don of the genre has insinuated or straight-up said, through an album/single, that Afrobeats is dead. Instead, various voices, from music execs to fans and everyone in between, are singing, not cautiously, but dreadfully, that it might soon need a pinebox. While Nas was alluding to the focus-shift from quality to mass-market profit in his 2006 release, the people now declaring Afrobeats dead are mostly referring to the funding channels that have suddenly closed.

It鈥檚 a noble concern. And though the premise of the conversation is inaccurate, it鈥檚 not entirely incorrect. The discourse that Afrobeats is in decline is often fueled by cancelled international tours, unsold tickets, shrinking marketing budgets and a perceived plateau in the genre鈥檚 global novelty. However, to provide an accurate answer or context to this concern, there must be a distinction between cultural resonance and corporate finance. Afrobeats isn鈥檛 dying; it鈥檚 undergoing a severe financial market correction and a sonic transmutation.

To declare a genre is in decline, the nature of that decline must be defined. In music, the death of a genre is rarely marked by a sudden disappearance. It鈥檚 usually characterised by three telltale signs, such as cultural stagnation (failure to attract new and young listeners or produce breakout stars), a drop in consumption metrics (streams, sales, radio plays, live performance attendance), and sonic petrification (no evolution, and heavy reliance on nostalgia instead of innovation).

When people claim Afrobeats is declining, especially at the moment, they鈥檙e pointing to the commercial and financial issues rather than the reality of the culture. This brings me to the point that there鈥檚 a mirage around the foreign capital and investment. Between 2018 and 2023, Afrobeats experienced a huge influx of venture capital and a corporate gold rush. Major international labels threw massive advances and inflated marketing budgets at many artists based on fleeting TikTok virality, driven by a fear of missing out (FOMO). When most of those massive advances failed to recoup, because global superstardom can鈥檛 be forced on every artist, the easy money dried up.

This sobering financial situation is thoroughly detailed in the . In this report authored by Professor Olufunmilayo Arewa, it鈥檚 revealed that Afrobeats generated roughly $100 million in global value, yet Africa remains the lowest royalty-earning region worldwide.

The report highlights that this gap isn’t accidental, but structural. The international major labels and digital streaming platforms control the distribution, metadata and royalty pipelines. African artists often enter this system from a position of disadvantage, so profits almost entirely flow offshore. Compounding this is Nigeria鈥檚 largely informal economy, which weakens copyright enforcement and revenue tracking. Therefore, the 鈥渄ecline鈥� in funding isn鈥檛 a sign that the music has lost its value. It鈥檚 a cautious reminder that our economic pipeline is functioning exactly as it was designed to. Local consumption is getting better, but the audience still needs international platform metrics to crown our stars. The live circuit is still crawling, even though events like Detty December draw millions. The lack of incoming investment is a symptom of structural flaws, not the death of Afrobeats.

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While we鈥檝e established that there鈥檚 no decline, there are arguments for the quiet phase that Afrobeats currently finds itself in. Things such as the slowdown in global milestones, the aforementioned funding drought that makes it harder for mid-level artists to finance high-end rollouts, promo and marketing. And lastly, there鈥檚 fatigue at the top: Afrobeats has been temporarily overly reliant on its veteran 鈥淏ig 3鈥�, so much that when their output slows or shifts in tone, international momentum stalls.

One counter-argument these days has been the rise of the underground, a space often filled by experimental, internet-native artists. But the few crop of artists gaining traction at the moment are a little fraction of the whole scene.

The history of music shows that genres rarely drop dead; instead, they transmute. They shed their skin and absorb new elements to survive the next generation.

When the mainstream excess of Disco 鈥渄ied鈥� in the late 1970s, its four-on-the-floor DNA didn鈥檛 vanish 鈥� it was stripped down by the marginalised youths of Chicago and transmuted into House music. In the 2000s, the classic boombap or sound of the Golden Hip-Hop era didn鈥檛 die; it absorbed the heavy 808s of Southern Trap to maintain global dominance. Even Afrobeats itself is a transmutation, born from the merging of forms of traditional Yoruba music, Caribbean Dancehall, American R&B and Hip-Hop, Pidgin English and local dialects, and cosmopolitan Lagos 鈥�

Afrobeats is currently in a heavy phase of transmutation. The silk-smooth pop sound of 2018 and early 2020s is making way for new, complex fusions. The genre is rapidly absorbing, from log-drums of Amapiano to Drill tempo, glitchy grunge and trap sounds and the vernacular storytelling of the streets.

The quality of music that bubbles to the mainstream can be a concern, but it should never dictate taste or be a growth graph. Oftentimes, the mainstream always rewards sub-par, mid, or KISS (Keep It Simple and Stupid) stuff. But this isn鈥檛 the first time that what鈥檚 considered shallow or 鈥渂rain-rot鈥� music has become popular. In fact, at every point in Nigerian pop music, just like we鈥檝e had brilliantly written and produced hits, we have had popular songs that are uncouth, morally decadent, incoherent or not just at the standard of yesteryear鈥檚 hits.

Also, what鈥檚 considered bad music in the context of this conversation is mostly a generational divide. When a lot of listeners resonate, is it really bad music? Listeners danced to Deebee鈥檚 鈥淐ollabo鈥�, Terry G鈥檚 鈥淔ree Madness鈥�, D鈥橞anj鈥檚 鈥淭ongolo鈥�, Durella鈥檚 鈥淲iskolowiska鈥� and P-Square鈥檚 鈥淏izzy Body part 2鈥� (What really did they have to say that they didn鈥檛 say in the first one?) It doesn鈥檛 matter how abstract, creative, glossy, poetic, slick or subtle they are written or delivered, most are songs about scams, soulless sexual encounters and nothing. The boomer and millennial stance that old music is better is delusional. Perhaps, a section of Afrobeats鈥� listeners has entered its 鈥渙ld taker鈥� stage.

To know if a genre is dying, one must look at what the kids are listening to. Youth culture always dictates the directional heading of music. Today, streaming numbers (radio is dead) reveal that the kids aren鈥檛 really looking backwards as much. They鈥檙e focused on making a weirder and more heavily localised music.

You see, while the export-ready sound plateaus, the youths at home have pivoted heavily to vernacular-driven music. This is where the rise of Street-Hop (Mara and other various forms) becomes the clearest proof of Afrobeats鈥� vitality. Artists like Shallipopi, Ayo Maff, Mavo and Zaylevelten are pulling huge streaming numbers. Street鈥揌op thrives on authenticity, uses algorithm-friendly beats, lamba and themes that speak directly to the economic and social realities of young Nigerians.

For a clearer understanding of the state of Afrobeats and a pathway toward real success, it must be noted that the ongoing 鈥渄ecline鈥� conversation is a misdiagnosis of a genre in transition. To put it clearly, cultural value and corporate investment aren鈥檛 the same thing. The easy money is gone, and the structural leaks are clearer, but hyper-commercialisation isn鈥檛 going to stop.

Since 2006, Nas has released over thirteen full-length projects, each arguably fashioned to accommodate the new sounds and voices of their times.

Afrobeats has many struggles caused by macroeconomic forces it can鈥檛 control  鈥� poverty, weak purchasing power, inflation and minimal government support. Decline isn鈥檛 one of them; the genre is just shedding old skin and preparing for its next inevitable, locally-driven evolution.

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For a Nigerian artist, achieving this means navigating a fickle market and a rapidly shifting sonic identity. Whether it鈥檚 the indigenous rap takeover of the early 2010s, the R&B-infused pop of the mid-2000s, or the modern global expansion of the late 2010s, these album runs represent the moments when these ten artists held the entire industry in a chokehold.

These are the 10 Nigerian artists who delivered the most flawless three-project streaks in history.

10.

Run: Yahoo Boy No Laptop (YBNL) (2012) 鈫� Baddest Guy Ever Liveth (2013) 鈫� Street OT (2014)

Between 2012 and 2014, Olamide was the undisputed voice of the streets. He won the Headies鈥� Album of the Year for all three of these consecutive projects, a feat that may never be repeated. gave hits like 鈥淔irst of All鈥� and stretched his impact beyond the underground. leaned fully into his braggadocious street persona, while delivered massive records like 鈥淪hakiti Bobo.鈥� Together, these albums cemented Olamide鈥檚 influence on Nigerian street pop and rap.

9.

Run: Superstar (2011) 鈫� Ayo (2014) 鈫� Sounds From the Other Side (2017)

Wizkid鈥檚 run follows the evolution of a boy wonder into a global icon. (2011) is arguably one of the most influential debuts in Afrobeats history. The album produced generational hits like 鈥淗olla at Your Boy,鈥� 鈥淧akurumo鈥� and 鈥淭ease Me.鈥� (2014), features the timeless 鈥淥juelegba鈥� and secures his status as a local legend. (2017) is Wizkid boldly experimenting with R&B, Caribbean and other international sounds, to lay the groundwork for the global 鈥淢ade In Lagos鈥� era that followed.

8.

Run: Once Upon a Time (2013) 鈫� R.E.D (2015) 鈫� Celia (2020)

The African Number One Bad Girl built her legacy on this formidable three-album run. Tiwa Savage鈥檚 debut, , arrived in 2013 when Nigerian pop was still heavily male-dominated. It immediately establishes her as the country鈥檚 leading female pop star. It has hits like 鈥淜ele Kele Love,鈥� 鈥淟ove Me鈥� and 鈥淓minado.鈥�

She followed with (2015), which is packed with commercial singles like 鈥淢y Darlin鈥� and 鈥淪tanding Ovation.鈥� Years later, (2020) increased her global reach with collaborations with Sam Smith and Davido. The album also debuted on the Billboard World Albums chart and earned a spot on Time Magazine鈥檚 best albums of the year. Tiwa Savage remains one of the most internationally visible African pop stars of her generation.

7.

Run: Talk About It (2008) 鈫� MI2: The Movie (2010) 鈫� The Chairman (2014)

M.I. Abaga鈥檚 albums feel like cinematic experiences; he knows how to curate music. (2008) redefined Nigerian Hip-Hop. (2010) is a star-studded blockbuster that has a commercial edge Nigerian Hip-Hop needed at the time. (2014), after a four-year wait, proved his lyrical and conceptual brilliance with songs like 鈥淏ad Belle鈥�, 鈥淗uman Being鈥� and 鈥淏rother.鈥� Again, he proved he could evolve with pop trends and still be light-years ahead of the competition.

6.

Run: Mr. Money With The Vibe (2022) 鈫� Work of Art (2023) 鈫� Lungu Boy (2024)

Few modern artists have dominated the Nigerian charts as quickly as Asake. His debut , broke multiple streaming records on Apple Music Nigeria and Spotify and had hits like 鈥淛oha,鈥� 鈥淭erminator鈥� and 鈥淪ungba.鈥� He followed with Work of Art, which delivered the smash single 鈥淟onely at the Top鈥�, one of the longest-charting Nigerian songs on streaming platforms. His third album, Lungu Boy boosts his commercial momentum and global expansion.

5.

Run: Outside (2018) 鈫� African Giant (2019) 鈫� Twice As Tall (2020)

This is Burna Boy鈥檚 鈥渁scent to the throne鈥� run. He went from a misunderstood genius to a global phenomenon in three steps. (2018) gave us 鈥淵e鈥� and a new Afro-fusion blueprint; (2019) is a sprawling, Grammy-nominated masterpiece. (2020) followed next and finally secured the Grammy. This run proves he鈥檚 exactly who he said he was: an African giant.

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4.

Run: Certificate (2006) 鈫� Gongo Aso (2008) 鈫� Tradition (2009)

9ice鈥檚 run was legendary, one that many young people today will not understand. (2006) showed his potential as an indigenous powerhouse and pushed him into mainstream superstardom. (2008) swept every award in sight when it came out. (2009) followed up with hits like 鈥淕bamu Gbamu.鈥� With these albums and their indigenous winning formula, 9ice owned the streets.

3. P-Square

Run: Get Squared (2005) 鈫� Game Over (2007) 鈫� Danger (2009)

The Okoye twins鈥� released albums that felt like national events. (2005) made them African superstars; (2007) became one of the best-selling African albums of all time with hits like 鈥淒o Me.鈥� (2009) proved they could easily maintain that white-hot momentum.

2.

Run: Asa (2007) 鈫� Beautiful Imperfection (2010) 鈫� Bed of Stone (2014)

Asa鈥檚 self-titled debut, (2007), remains one of the most critically respected Nigerian albums ever. It鈥檚 a classic that introduced 鈥淛ailer.鈥� Her second album, (2010), features a brighter, more upbeat, soulful production. It also听 produced the widely loved single 鈥淏e My Man.鈥� Her third album, , continued her reputation for thoughtful songwriting and emotional depth. These albums cemented Asa as one of the most artistically consistent voices in modern Nigerian music.

1.

Run: Face 2 Face (2004) 鈫� Grass 2 Grace (2006) 鈫� The Unstoppable (2008)

2Baba鈥檚 first three solo projects provided the foundation for the contemporary Nigerian music industry. (2004) gave us 鈥淎frican Queen,鈥� one of the most important Afropop songs ever recorded, which helped introduce Nigerian pop to wider African and international audiences. (2006), his sophomore, has big hits like 鈥淚f Love is a Crime.鈥�

In 2008, he released , an experimental project that continued his momentum, featuring songs such as 鈥淓nter the Place鈥�. 

ALSO READ:听Why Are Nigerian Pop Albums So Forgettable These Days?

Think about this tweet by culture curator and journalist, Ayomide 鈥淎OT2鈥� Tayo.

Take your time, I will wait.

If you鈥檙e struggling with finding one, you are not alone. Something interesting is happening to Nigerian pop albums. They arrive with massive rollouts (not hating on rollouts), trend on X for 72 hours, rack up first-week streams that鈥檇 make an early-2010s artist weep, and then鈥� fade into oblivion. Three months later, except for the one popular single, no one can remember the tracklist. The songs blur into each other. The album has no shape, no spine, no reason to exist as a body of work, but rather a loosely assembled folder on DSPs.

Don鈥檛 mistake this for a rant or just another case of 鈥淎frobeats journalists being shady again.鈥� Nigerian music is objectively in its most powerful era yet. The artists are more diverse and more talented. The production is world-class, and the global reach keeps skyrocketing. So why do the albums feel like fluff the moment one presses play?

Albums used to be an experience. You bought the CD, whether an original or a pirated copy from Alaba Market, roadside or your area鈥檚 cassette/CD store, and you lived inside that album for months. You knew which track came after which. You knew the interludes. You had opinions about the sequencing. The album had a feel and a personality that mattered more than the sum of its singles.

Think about the projects from the mid-2000s to early 2010s that defined Nigerian pop music. Those albums have structure and sticking narratives. They open with intention, build momentum, shift gears in the middle and close as intended. The features amplify the album鈥檚 vision, and aren鈥檛 just pair-ups with who鈥檚 hot. Even the skits aren鈥檛 filler, but connective parts. All elements of the albums come together for a single purpose. When you finish listening, you feel like you鈥檝e been somewhere.

Whether A-listers or mid-tier artists, they understood that an album is supposed to be a statement of where you are as an artist or what is happening around you at that moment. The ambition was as creative as it was commercial. Artists could prove they could sustain a vision across 14, 16, or 18 tracks.

Now? Most albums feel like they were built in reverse. Pick the singles first, fill in the gaps later, slap a title on it and ship.

Something-something about the streaming machine

There鈥檚 no doubt that streaming has redefined what success now looks like in music. In the streaming era, success isn鈥檛 measured by how good an album is. It鈥檚 measured by how many individual tracks chart. Every song on the project is competing for playlist placement, and playlists don鈥檛 care about an album鈥檚 narrative arc. Playlists only care about mood, vibes and saves.

Whether liked or not, this changes everything about how albums are made. If each track needs to stand alone and pass the 30-second test, why would any artist build a slow-burning intro? Why would they include an interlude that creates breathing room but generates zero streams? Why will an artist sequence tracks for emotional flow when most listeners will hear them on shuffle anyway?

We now have albums with hardly ten tracks, designed like EPs. It鈥檚 kept that way to appeal to short-attention spans and to hack the algorithm. We also have what one could call the Agbada Album: a collection of songs masquerading as a project. The tracklist is bloated because more songs mean more streams. Either route leaves the listeners unchallenged. Nothing asks them to wait and rewards them for paying attention, because most albums these days aren鈥檛 crafted for attention. They鈥檙e put together for quick consumption.

Is this a problem or just evolution? Some would argue that the album format was always an artefact of the physical media system. You needed 40 minutes of music to justify buying a CD. Now that singles are the real unit of currency, forcing 15 tracks into a cohesive body of work is almost considered nostalgia and an invitation to criticism.

But before we rush to blame artists, these things are worth sitting with.

Even if we accept that the album format is evolving, something has clearly shifted in the creative process. The pace at which Nigerian pop artists release projects (read albums) has accelerated to the point that it feels unsustainable. Major artists put out a project, tour for a few months maybe, and then there鈥檚 already pressure to release the next one. The content cycle is ravenous, and it cares less about the artistic gestation period.

There鈥檚 a reason the albums that stick with us, anywhere in the world, tend to come from artists who take their time. Not because there鈥檚 magic in delay, but mostly because there鈥檚 time for reworking, for throwing away ideas that don鈥檛 work, for living with the project long enough to know if it actually holds together or accurately interprets the vision. Rushed albums don鈥檛 get the benefit of that crafting and self-editing. It鈥檚 mostly like submitting the first draft.

READ NEXT: What Billboard鈥檚 鈥淥ne-Hit Wonder鈥� Label On Rema Reveals About the Nigerian Music Industry

The fear driving this rush is quite apparent. Nigerian pop moves really fast. If you disappear for two years to cook (not everyone is the Big 3 or Rema), someone else takes your slot in the conversation. This keeps artists in perpetual release mode. They trade depth for frequency, and the albums pay the price, though this isn鈥檛 to say all rushed albums are bad and all long-gestated albums are good. There are definitely some great albums that got made quickly, perhaps under pressure. But the key thing here is intention, not speed. Are artists making music because they have something to say, or because the business or release schedule says it鈥檚 time?

As a listener, it鈥檚 completely okay to be genuinely bothered. Even if you accept the streaming economics and factor, and forgive the pace, what happened to the craft of album making?

Where did the story go?

Sequencing is an art. It鈥檚 the difference between a compilation/playlist and an album. The choices of where a song is placed, what comes before it, and what follows it create meaning. The unforgettable albums build conversations and impact memories.

Most Nigerian pop albums today have no discernible sequencing logic. You could rearrange the tracks in any order, and the listening experience would be roughly the same. There are no transitions, no storylines, no sense that the artist considered the album as a journey with a beginning, middle and end. Somehow, the whole thing is less than the sum of its parts.

This is also where storytelling has faded. The unforgettable albums in Nigerian pop history tell stories, not necessarily literal narratives, but emotional ones. They carry a feeling across their runtime. You can sense the artist鈥檚 growth, heartbreak, joy, conflict, and whatever emotions unfold across the tracklist. Now, most albums are flat and soulless. Just vibes (an unfortunate term that happened to music) throughout. Nothing that draws the listener in to pay attention to what鈥檚 happening between tracks.

But do we as listeners even care? Before we lay it at the feet of artists, labels and industry machines, we need to flip the mirror and look at the audience鈥檚 behaviour. The way we listen to music has changed as much as the way music is made. We skip relentlessly. Thirty seconds into a song that doesn鈥檛 immediately hook, it鈥檚 on to the next or the already familiar. We add two tracks to a playlist and forget the other fourteen exist. We engage with albums through discourse 鈥� X threads, IG stories, stan wars, Spotify wrapped, scrobble points 鈥� more than through sustained listening. We form opinions about albums within hours of release, then move on to the next thing.

In an environment like this, is it any wonder that artists have stopped trying to make albums that reward deep listening? Why build a cathedral when everyone鈥檚 just going to take a selfie in the doorway and leave?

This is the feedback loop that needs to be talked about. Artists, these days, make microwave music because we consume shallowly. We consume shallowly because the albums aren鈥檛 giving us a reason to go deeper. Round and round it goes, each side pointing at the other, and hardly anybody is trying or willing to break the cycle.

International appeal 鈮� authenticity

As Nigerian artists have gone global and the push has been significant, their albums have begun to abandon a universal worldview and instead seek to speak different languages at once. A track for the UK market here, something for the American playlists there, a Francophone feature for a wider African audience, a Caribbean-leaning dancehall joint for crossover potential.

None of these choices is inherently bad. Nigerian contemporary music has always been a fusion culture, and the ability to move between sounds is part of what makes Afrobeats so powerful. But when an album is built to satisfy every possible audience, it often ends up with no real identity of its own. It鈥檚 everything and nothing. It鈥檚 a buffet when what you wanted was a chef鈥檚 tasting menu.

The albums from the previous era that we still remember? They weren鈥檛 really thinking about global playlist placement (they didn鈥檛 detest global appeal). They were thinking about what they wanted to say, in their own voice and primarily for their own people. The international audience came because of the authenticity and specificity, not in spite of it. There might be a lesson in that.

So what now?

Look, I鈥檓 not saying Nigerian artists need to go back to 2008. You can鈥檛 reverse-engineer the cultural conditions that made those albums possible, and you shouldn鈥檛 try. The industry has changed, listening habits have changed, and the economics are what they are. But none of that means the art of cohesive album-making has to die. It just means the album has to be worth it.

If you鈥檙e going to ask someone to spend 30, 40, or 50 minutes with your album, give them a reason. Tell a story. Build a world. Make the sequencing matter. Cut the three filler tracks that exist purely for streaming math. Have the confidence to make something that doesn鈥檛 chase every audience at once.

For the listeners? Let鈥檚 meet the artists halfway. Maybe we put the phone down, turn off shuffle and actually listen front to back once in a while. Maybe we stop treating albums like content to be consumed for “gotcha” moments, stan wars and trends, and start treating them like art to be experienced.

Or maybe the album really is just a relic of a different era, and the future of Nigerian music lives entirely in singles, compilations, EPs and playlists. Maybe that鈥檚 fine. Maybe it鈥檚 even better. But I don鈥檛 think so, and if you鈥檙e still reading this, I don鈥檛 think you do either.

ALSO READ: The 10 Greatest Debut Afrobeats Albums of All Time, Ranked

Instead of guessing from the sidelines, I asked the people inside the engine rooms: the executives, A&Rs, community founders, music journalists and culture drivers who, for the most part, help determine where Afrobeats goes next. Most are optimistic. Some are cautious. All of them have opinions.

From music evolution and a new crop of artists to local relevance and what success might look like in 2026, these 10 Nigerian music industry players share their predictions on where Afrobeats is headed in 2026.

鈥淭his year is less about volume and more about impact.鈥� 鈥� (Head of Marketing, Sony Music, West Africa)

鈥淚n 2026, Afrobeats will continue to grow globally, with Spotify still leading discovery and scale. But creatively, the genre is at a turning point. Toward the end of last year, we saw shorter audience attention spans around albums. Many artists released projects, but very few produced true global hits. That has created a real hunger for new sounds and more intentional records. We鈥檙e moving away from formulaic releases toward originality and stronger sound identities, especially from emerging acts like Mavo and Zaylevelten. This year feels less about volume and more about impact.鈥�

鈥淪ame as 2025. More polarising music styles.鈥� 鈥� (Culture Journalist and Podcaster)

鈥淚 think 2026 will be a continuation of what we saw in 2025; new acts emerging with polarising grunge, trap, and progressive street-hop records, as well as Naija-fine-tuned Amapiano cuts. A lot of big names might be phased out this year if their singles and albums don鈥檛 make a mark.鈥�

鈥淧eople in Afrobeats will become more disciplined this year.鈥� 鈥� (Founder, WeTalkSound)

鈥淔rom the industry side, there will be greater discipline around deals and advances that labels are offering. They will be more measured this year, based on the lessons from the previous year. And that’s already happening, because labels are a lot more intentional about what they’re offering because there鈥檚 now enough historical data to predict what the economics and finances will look like.

People will become more disciplined, too, because they’ll realise that audiences now know they’ve been overpaying for certain things and not getting their value back.

Some songs have already dropped and received acceptance this year. It鈥檚 clear that Afrobeats has taken a freer form. People are making whatever they want. This will lead to greater overall success for Afrobeats this year, but the flip side is that the audience will get tired of the unpredictability and want some level of structure.鈥�

鈥淭his year, there will be a huge focus on home, Nigeria.鈥� 鈥� (Music Journalist, Podcaster and A&R)

鈥淚n 2026, the pendulum will move back a bit. Afrobeats is going to move into sustainability. We had it once, briefly, then we pushed past that to the stage where we鈥檙e seeing people with money release music, and we call it 鈥淣epopiano鈥� because the funding institution is stalling for the mid and lower-tier creators and the business. There鈥檒l also be a huge focus on home, Nigeria and winning in other parts of the African continent.鈥�

鈥淭he market will be unpredictable.鈥� 鈥� (Co-founder TurnTable Media, Data & Analytics)

鈥淢y only prediction for Afrobeats in 2026 is that the market will remain unpredictable. Afrobeats will be fine, though, maybe even score a global smash hit or two.鈥�

READ NEXT: 20 Things We Predict Will Happen in Nigerian Pop Culture in 2026

鈥淭his year, we鈥檒l have another massive Billboard hit.鈥� 鈥� (Label/Marketing Manager and A&R Coordinator (Africa), Virgin Music)

鈥淢y prediction is that afrobeats this year will be more experimental and unconventional; shout-out to Rema for that. This year, Afrobeats will have another massive Billboard hit, though I鈥檓 not sure who鈥檒l deliver it.鈥�

鈥淓xpect Afrobeats in more film and TV soundtracks, fashion collabs and global brand tie-ins.鈥� 鈥� , (Founder, Pizzazz Media and Lead PR & Marketing, BFA Agency)

鈥淎frobeats won鈥檛 just be 鈥渉ot overseas鈥� anymore. In 2026, we鈥檙e moving past curiosity into permanent placement. Expect the genre in more film and TV soundtracks, fashion collabs, and global brand tie-ins that aren鈥檛 tokenistic. The sound is becoming a fixture in pop culture, not just a moment.

This is the year where major Afrobeats artists lean harder into owning infrastructure like labels, publishing companies, creative houses, fashion and startups. They鈥檒l export the business models alongside the music. There will be new benchmarks for commercial success, too. Chart placements, streaming numbers and playlisting will still matter, but 2026 will bring new metrics: fan engagement rituals, direct fan support systems (think NFTs or fan tokens that actually have utility), and more localised monetisation strategies that don鈥檛 rely solely on global platforms. The audience鈥檚 tastes will sharpen too. Fans will be able to differentiate between styles, regions, producers and eras. It鈥檒l push artists to be more distinct.

It鈥檚 also important to note that marketing power has clearly begun to shift from gatekeepers (media houses and influencers) to fan communities. The communities will have the upper hand and power to market and promote this year.鈥�

鈥淎frobeats artists will try to blend with electronic-dance music (EDM) this year.鈥� 鈥� (Founder, The DIY Collective)

鈥淲e have been talking about sonic reset in Afrobeats for the longest time, but this 2026 and from here on, people will look for depth in songs. Also, more artists, especially those who broke out a year or two ago, will release more albums this year. The reason is, everyone is building their catalogue, and no one wants to be a one-hit wonder. It already costs a lot to get a viral moment; artists now need to sustain it and keep people hooked.

Afrobeats will also have fewer one-hit wonders to international success trajectories. We鈥檒l get more community-driven projects and initiatives at home this year.

The electronic-dance music scene will grow bigger, too. Afrobeats artists will even try to see how much they can blend with electronic-dance music (EDM) this year, from afro-house remixes to techno remixes.鈥�

鈥淚t鈥檚 the year of music producers, especially the new ones.鈥� 鈥� (Founder, The 49th Street)

鈥淭his is the most exciting time in Afrobeats for me. There鈥檚 more versatility (sub-genres and artists) in our music now, and it鈥檚 just the beginning. It鈥檚 also the year of music producers, especially the new ones. We鈥檒l see fewer full-length albums and more collaborations this year too.鈥�

鈥淎udiences will start craving familiarity again.鈥� 鈥� (Digital lead, NATIVE Records)

鈥淔or Afrobeats in 2026, I think we鈥檒l see more viral moments than breakout artists. Songs will travel fast, but fewer artists will fully break through in a lasting way. Right now, there鈥檚 an influx of experimentation, genre-blending, new sounds, and global influences, as always. But it鈥檒l reach a point where audiences start craving familiarity again. It鈥檚 a year of contrast. Fast virality on one side, and a deeper hunger for relatable and long-lasting music on the other.鈥�

ALSO READ: 10 Nigerian Artists We Should Be Obsessed With in 2026

What Song Are These Lyrics From?

Take this quiz to figure out your personality at the raves that shake up the heart of Lagos.

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He digs into his family history. In homage to his forebearers, he returns to the palace and bows to pay respect to his king, the custodian of his ancestry. The throne accepts him like a true prince. Drummers with quick hands and tongues for chants and eulogy put him in a groove with their rhythms. All these as part of the album rollout.

Two minutes and twenty-four seconds short of a forty-minute listening time, this 15-track-long album opens impressively. It begins with a sample from Sakara musician album, which honours King Kosoko from the 1950s. The sample rings out: 鈥淥mo Oba ki jagun bi eru鈥鈥橭ba Oluwa lase鈥濃�攎eaning 鈥渁 prince doesn鈥檛 fight wars like slaves鈥he will of God, the Supreme King, is final.鈥� Then it fades into Adekunle Gold switching flows and singing of his transition from nothing to great. A peasant-prince now wines and dines with elites. A small fry now disturbs the deep blue sea. Hence, his new sobriquet 鈥淏ig Fish鈥� is also the title of the opening track.

He has wanted these moments all his life: magazine covers draped in gold, front row seats at international fashion shows. Although his politics have never been a public discourse, it tickles the ears to hear him sing specifically that he has never collected 鈥淏ourdillion (Tinubu鈥檚) money.鈥� He made his bones without a handout from any politician. His success did that for him. In realisation of that, and that success attracts success and so does influence, he emphatically rebukes, 鈥淚 don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go / I don鈥檛 wanna go back to poverty.鈥� It鈥檚 money in Adekunle鈥檚 line of sight. And there鈥檚 no better way to keep cash flow than to innovate or creatively captivate what鈥檚 currently popular.

Fuji has always influenced contemporary Nigerian music, dating back to LKT, and has had a particularly significant impact in the last four years. It鈥檚 the tail of 2025, and Adekunle Gold joins a growing roster of artists hybridising the culture and sound. Though his songwriting and sound gestures to a fusion of Afropop, Tungba, R&B and Amapiano, not Fuji in a purist鈥檚 approach or the neo-Fuji that鈥檚 common with the likes of LKT, Dekunle Fuji, Small Doctor, Olamide, Reminisce, Asake and Seyi Vibez. The look he presents, as seen on his curtain-call album art, is urban and gives no specific nod to Fuji. But a man can style himself as he likes, though on a closer look, it鈥檚 a vestige of his Mexican misadventure.

鈥淒on Corleone鈥� is the second track, featuring shimming and repetitive ad-libs, as well as backup vocals from his wife, Simi. Like every non-Sicilian artist who has referenced Don Vito Corleone to project their strict and ruthless-when-necessary side in their music, Adekunle Gold likens himself to Mario Puzo鈥檚 classic The Godfather character. But don’t fret 鈥� AG Baby, as fondly called, still wants you to dance鈥hough only if you鈥檙e a spender.

READ NEXT: The 10 Greatest Fuji Music Albums of All Time

With a tweak that encourages diligence and patience, 鈥淏obo鈥� continues his narrative that you鈥檙e noticed only if you鈥檙e rich, with features that carry emo-pop and street-pop sensibilities from Lojay and Shoday. 鈥淐oco Money鈥� follows and plainly advises to stay out of his sight if money isn鈥檛 involved. 

Now, love is in the air. 鈥淏elieve鈥�, the track that follows, is a serenade of a promising love, much like (1980) 鈥� the song it samples. Here, he鈥檚 a young lover trying to keep his love youthful. Next, on 鈥淢y Love Is The Same,鈥� themes of family and sacrifice roll into a moment of fatherhood with his daughter, Adejare. He apologises for not being around to spend time together as much as he鈥檇 have loved to.

The music switches back to prospective love in the 6lack-featured 鈥淟ove Is An Action鈥�, a title that reiterates the message of the sampled song, 鈥溾�� (1978) by Bobby Caldwell.

With the dots of American samples and Hollywood references on the album, followed by 鈥淢any People鈥�, a Tungba-pop track that directly borrows from veteran Tungba-Gospel artist Yinka Ayefele鈥檚 song of the same title, the Fuji is yet to kick in. 鈥淎ttack鈥� with TkayMaidza, Cruel Santino, Mavo, the new generation lamba maestro, launches straight to a neon-light party where girls bring their friends to mingle. If anything, this song gives the youngsters more visibility than it reinvents Adekunle Gold.

鈥淥nly God Can Save Me鈥�, featuring Davido, finds rhythm in Amapiano and throws the two married singers into a confession and temptation with infidelity.

Ten tracks in, it鈥檚 clear that the signalled Fuji is largely missing from the album鈥檚 sound, neither in the sample nor in the choice of featured artists. Instead, it vaguely hangs in his voice, tickling mostly the delivery of his choruses.

. 鈥淔uji is bigger than music. It is Lagos, it鈥檚 street royalty, it鈥檚 our story, our hustle, our heritage turned global.鈥� All these are valid, except for limiting Fuji to Lagos, but his album is nothing like the music and culture. It only pays tribute to the genre in name, not in approach, style, or sonic appeal. Presenting a certain thing and offering something entirely different is a spineless appropriation.

This creates a fascinating cultural conundrum, especially now that African music genres move so fluidly around the world. If the name Fuji is used willfully, without an accurate context, won鈥檛 that enable listeners outside the culture to incorrectly assume the music is something else, rather than the existing, better-known Fuji genre?

It鈥檚 noble that he鈥檚 shining a light on his inspirations. He even brought out Fuji music legends like Saheed Osupa, Taiye Currency, and Obesere at . But, interestingly, Fuji is only in his rollout, not in the music.

Siriku 鈥淏arrister鈥� Ayinde, the progenitor of Fuji music, blended Were, Sakara, Juju, Apala, Aro, Gudugudu and possibly  Highlife to create the sound. If this is the route Adekunle Gold is taking with Pop, R&B, Tungba and Amapiano, perhaps he should call it something different.

Anyway, the Afropop grooves on, but the eleventh track, 鈥淟ailo鈥�, isn鈥檛 spectacular. It鈥檚 a reiteration of every saccharine lyric about love that you鈥檝e heard from Adekunle since . On the soul-stirring 鈥淪imile鈥�, which he wrote in 2019 after his father鈥檚 demise, he searches for an anchor to rest on, unwilling to be swept away by life鈥檚 fleeting tides. On this track, he brings back his band, 79th Element, and grabs assistance from Soweto Gospel Choir.

In less than six minutes before he takes the final bow and drops the curtain on the album, 鈥淚鈥檓 Not Done鈥�, with American pianist Robert Glasper touches on tenacity and longevity. 鈥淥bimo鈥� ends the album. You can call it a bonus track.

FUJI has been lauded by many as his best since Afropop Vol. 1, if not the top contender. But here鈥檚 an irony worth considering, as writer Ojo O observed in a recent Substack discussion: nothing on this Fuji-themed album is a strong option if brought next to , or 鈥�, or Falz鈥檚 鈥淣o Less.鈥� Adekunle Gold did not refine the Juju-Tungba sound that came to him instinctively before grafting to a global sound. The result is a loss of musical grounding. He no longer has a centre to perform from with conviction, and his global experiments haven’t been as creatively rewarding as he often claims.

Afropop Vol. 1 is a critical success because he took time to bring the listeners into his pop world-building. Ten singles in, and the audience was aware he was making a switch from the folksy sound.

Post-Afropop, he began moving very fast, and the audience began to take the backseat. Adekunle Gold doesn鈥檛 give listeners enough time to love what he鈥檚 become before he splits himself into another thing.

But maybe winning takes care of everything.

Don鈥檛 get me wrong: six studio albums into a decade-long mainstream career is a serious discipline that deserves applause and more. And there鈥檚 no doubt that this is an enjoyable project that outranks many so far this year, in terms of quality and its flamboyant rollout. But FUJI, just like his last two albums, forces the audience to accept a new idea without proper preparation, and lacks the authenticity that allows them to bond with the artist and the body of work.

However, this is the new Adekunle. He鈥檚 not a Fuji artist, just a man, or a prince if you鈥檇 like, who has loved Fuji since juvenile 鈥� and is interpreting it the best way he can.

Score: 6.5

Editor鈥檚 note (October 10, 2025): Editor鈥檚 note: A previous version of this story included phrasing similar to a Substack comment by Ojo O. The piece has been updated to include proper credit. We remain committed to maintaining accurate attributions in our documentation.

ALSO READ: What Happens When the Most Avid Fuji Fans Come Out to Play?

But that during his 02 Arena show recently was the last straw.

The sentiment that Nigerian musicians give preferential treatment to fans in the West has been a hot topic on social media for months. This has manifested in many ways, but especially in how these musicians treat their home-based fans. Fans have raised everything from throwing jabs at Nigerians to not showing up at all to perform or coming very late when they do show up as evidence of this.

Kizz Daniel left fans at the 2022 Summer Amplified Show in disappointment. , according to that event鈥檚 show promoter. Sometimes it has been worse. In December 2024, during the Greater Lagos Countdown Concert.

It is obvious that the global expansion of Afrobeats means that Nigerian musicians would have to spend months performing in Europe, North America, and the Middle East. Still, there are times when it has gone beyond that to something lacklustre at best.

In 2023, after the release of Work Of Art, Asake鈥檚 label, YBNL and distributor, EMPIRE, hosted a party for fans and industry insiders in Lagos. But the man of the hour, Asake, was nowhere to be found. It was the same case at his Lungu Boy Experience in 2024. Yhemo Lee, Poco Lee and several others who climbed the stage urged the crowd to make more noise to bring Asake out. But he didn鈥檛 show up.

鈥淚magine arriving at a show venue, and yet, three hours after the start time, the event hadn鈥檛 started. When the headlining artist finally got on stage, he didn鈥檛 spend more than ten minutes. He left, and the show ended abruptly and immediately,鈥� James, a concert goer in Lagos, said about his experience attending a Seyi Vibez show last December.

With the influx of the dollar into Afrobeats, it is easy to begin to 鈥渇ollow the money,鈥� and neglect the naira, but that local fans are the bedrock of Afrobeats cannot be overstated. They packed the early shows in Nigeria, pushed the music when no one was watching, and created the first viral moments. 

鈥淚n January 2023, after the Detty December of 2022 and festivities, I stayed back in Lagos with my cousins because of a Burna Boy show. But we waited for hours, almost three, before he took the stage. Worse still, he publicly scolded the crowd, telling us we were lucky he showed up,鈥� Timilehin described his experience at Lagos Love Damini in 2023. 鈥淚 felt bad and felt he [Burna Boy] didn’t deserve our money. Before then, I used to admire his cockiness as part of his aura. Now, it’s nothing more than stupid arrogance to me,鈥� he added.

This is less the case when Burna Boy performed abroad.

Smeezy Ose, a talent manager, who has been to his shows in Nigeria and abroad, said, 鈥� I was at his Wembley Stadium and Coop Arena shows. The difference between the shows in both locations is that he kept to time here [in the UK]. The venues here don鈥檛 even operate till dawn. He had no choice. There鈥檚 also more respect for the audience here. My biggest takeaway is the event organisation. It鈥檚 always completely different from what I have seen in Nigeria.鈥�

For fans in Nigeria, the sparsity of the shows has also been a problem. While stars like Wizkid and Davido perform in multiple cities in the US and UK in a year, back home many A-list concerts rarely go past Lagos and Abuja, leaving fans outside major cities dry. 

But rising acts like Llona and Dwin, the Stoic are filling this vacuum. These artists have performed in places like Port Harcourt, Ibadan, Ife, Kogi. But in these early days, it鈥檚 not very clear how profitable those shows have been.

Music journalist and A&R Joey Akan argues that they 鈥渁re doing it at a loss, and not all people can stomach losses.鈥�

He continued: 鈥淭he background for all of these is that artists are businessmen. They always focus their energy on places where they are paid and get the most money from. If their product, which is music, is in demand in certain markets, they’ll focus on those places, and that’s what we have been seeing.鈥�

But he added that engaging fans across the country is very important for musicians if they want to remain on top. 鈥淵ou need hype, PR and all the things that’ll build value into the art and disseminate it. But the big artists haven鈥檛 treated the Nigerian fans properly; they aren’t even trying,鈥� he said.

He also believes that things will likely not change if the unique infrastructure problems of being a musician in Nigeria are not fixed. 鈥淭he challenges they have to deal with locally when they come to work and perform, they don’t have to deal with them out there. Insecurity is a big problem here. We don’t have venues to perform too. It is what it is,鈥� he said.

But as the industry miraculously waits for an infrastructure that鈥檒l let it thrive, its artists and executives need to work on better serving fans across the country.

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