For much of his career, Tobe Nwigwe has occupied a unique position in contemporary music. The Grammy-nominated artist of Nigerian descent has built an ecosystem where music, film, faith, family, and cultural storytelling exist as parts of the same conversation. His records explore the realities of responsibility, self-discovery, and the pursuit of something greater than personal success. His newest release, “All or Nothing” continues that tradition.

Built on a soaring refrain delivered by Labrinth, the song immediately establishes its emotional centre. “You just call me when you need me” repeats throughout the record, transforming what could have been a simple hook into something that resembles a promise. The repetition is intentional. Commitment, after all, is rarely expressed through grand gestures alone. More often, it reveals itself through consistency.

Tobe Nwigwe’s verses navigate familiar terrain for listeners who have followed his work. There are references to sacrifice, perseverance, vulnerability, and faith, all delivered through imagery that feels both personal and universal. He approaches love as responsibility, acknowledging fear, uncertainty, and failure while choosing devotion anyway.

What makes the collaboration particularly effective is the contrast between both artists. Tobe Nwigwe grounds the record in lived experience, speaking from a place shaped by Houston, Nigeria, family, and community. Labrinth brings a different energy, one that feels expansive and almost spiritual. Together, they create a song that feels larger than either artist individually.

The production mirrors that ambition: cinematic yet restrained, allowing the vocals and storytelling to remain at the forefront. There are subtle rhythmic textures that hint at the global framework underpinning the project, but the record never feels consumed by its concept.

That sense of scale becomes even more significant when viewed through the lens of ‘The Bridge’. According to Tobe, the project explores the connections between Houston, Lagos, London, and communities across the diaspora. “All or Nothing” focuses on showing up, examining what happens when people choose each other repeatedly despite distance, uncertainty, and the many pressures that threaten connection. As the first offering from ‘The Bridge’, “All or Nothing” succeeds in introducing the project’s larger vision. Tobe Nwigwe has spent years proving that purpose can coexist with popularity. On “All or Nothing”, that purpose finds one of its clearest expressions yet—a reminder that what connects us is often not where we come from but who we choose to show up for.

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These releases blend energy, dancehall fire, and soul-stirring vocals to deliver movement, motivation, and pure escapism.

Dance by Fave

This track will have you gliding all the way to the Greek islands and then to Santorini. True to its title, Fave crafts a beat built entirely for movement.

It’s a sleek fusion of R&B warmth, Afrobeats bounce, and dancehall flair that pulses with infectious percussion and shimmering synths. But beneath the dance-ready production lies a romantic record about falling unexpectedly and wanting to escape into a world built for two.

Fave sings about a love that feels different from the rest, admitting that while people and situations may come and go, her feelings remain impossible to ignore. The dreamy references to Greece, Santorini, and Paris paint a picture of lovers eager to leave everything behind and get lost in each other’s company.

It’s the perfect song to serenade a lovely dance partner under dim lights, inviting you to lose yourself in its rhythmic sway and sultry grooves.

Many People by Ema Ogah and Ladipoe

Many People – Ema Ogah & Ladipoe

Ema Ogah opens with a mesmerizing, rapid-fire delivery that blurs the lines between rap, prayer, and hypnotic chant, leaving listeners captivated by his unique cadence and the now infectious “Aimoye” refrain.

Beneath the energy lies a message of resilience. Ema reflects on lessons learned, chasing success, and blocking out distractions, repeatedly returning to the idea that there are “many people” talking, doubting, or watching, but “that one no concern me.” It’s a mindset anthem wrapped in clever lyricism and relentless momentum.

Then Ladipoe steps in like grounding energy. His verse slows everything down without killing the momentum. He touches on the pressures of success, navigating industry politics, staying authentic, and the reality that visibility often attracts criticism. His bars carry the confidence of someone who understands that growth requires both thick skin and perspective.

Produced by Ucee, the bouncy beat drives high-energy momentum, layering sharp flows over vibrant percussion for an unstoppable anthem about facing forward, giving your all, and stepping into your “that one no concern me” era. Equal parts motivational and self-assured, “Many People” feels like the soundtrack to keeping your head down, trusting the process, and refusing to let outside noise dictate your journey.

Nervous by Shatta Wale

Shatta Wale continues his unstoppable momentum with “Nervous,” a head-nodding banger perfect for cruising with the windows down.

The production (via So Unique Records) fuses dancehall swagger with infectious grooves and wicked, street-ready beats that keep the energy high.

Sing along, bop your head, and let the Dancehall King ease those nerves while lighting up the drive.

Fantasize by Ric Hassani, Tegha

Ric Hassani links up with Tehga for this soulful ballad that captures love’s dreamy pull.

Their voices intertwine seamlessly over smoothgentle melodies, warm instrumentation, and heartfelt harmonies create an intimate soundscape.

It’s a beautiful ode to fantasy and connection, with Ric back in his element delivering vulnerability and romance, we’re hoping it doesn’t end in another ‘Thunder Fire You’ moment.

Idol by Esoterica

Consider this your official introduction to Esoterica.

She is an alternative artist who delivers her lyrics with raw conviction and commanding presence, drawing you into every word.

The production elevates her storytelling with layered, atmospheric elements that demand attention. Expect her to become a staple in your rotation.

Fre$h by Victony

Victony is an artist who rarely misses, and “Fre$h” is just another feather in his hat. Produced by Ozedikus, the record is a joyful celebration of a woman whose confidence, beauty, and style command attention wherever she goes.

Built on bouncy Afrobeats rhythms, crisp percussion, and infectious melodies, “Fre$h” finds Victony fully in admiration mode.

From repeatedly calling his muse “fresh” to declaring that he has never seen anyone in her category, the singer paints a picture of a woman who effortlessly stands out from the crowd. His playful lyrics and smooth delivery add charm to the record, making it feel less like a love song and more like an appreciation anthem.

It’s the kind of song that makes you want to send a text, post a picture, or even reconsider your single status.

This week’s lineup is designed to move bodies, lift spirits, and spark connection. Whether you’re dancing through the night, cruising around, or daydreaming with a loved one, these tracks deliver fresh fire across genres.

Here’s a link to the full list:

Stream them, share them, and have a lovely weekend.

The post Victony, Fave, Ladipoe, Shatta Wale And More On New Music Friday. appeared first on Afromixx.

Tower’s artistry lives in emotional honesty and sonic simplicity. Blending intimate acoustic soundscapes with reflective songwriting that turns everyday feelings into lyrical poetry. Her soft vocals carry throughout “Wildflower,” without overpowering the song’s emotions, instead allowing them to settle naturally into every line and instrumental pause. It is this softness that makes the song feel like stepping into someone else’s internal dialogue.

Opening with gentle guitar strings, “Wildflower” immediately settles into introspection as Tower asks, “Am I too much?” The question lands with the kind of familiarity that echoes the anxiety that often accompanies overthinking, self-doubt, and the constant fear of missteps. There is an almost immediate sense of caution embedded in the song, the feeling of someone second-guessing every action because they are terrified of getting things wrong.

Rather than dramatise these emotions, Tower allows them to bloom within the song’s sparse production. As the record unfolds, “Wildflower” slowly transforms from uncertainty into self-preservation. Tower sings about closing her heart off from predators and becoming her own saviour before she finally blossoms, using the imagery of a wildflower as both protection and rebirth. There is something beautiful about how the song progresses from emotional dependence toward reluctant self-reliance.

At its core, “Wildflower” feels like a plea for peace from someone emotionally exhausted. It tells the subtle story of a person spiralling under the weight of heartbreak and confusion, struggling with the painful reality that, despite all their efforts, they still cannot fully understand the mind of the person standing before them. That emotional disconnect drives the song forward, lingering beneath every lyric and soft instrumental layer.

The production remains intentionally restrained for most of its runtime. Calm instrumentals mirror the softness of Tower’s vocals. At the same time, repeated lyrics reinforce the emotional exhaustion at the centre of the record, almost as though she is trying to convince herself as much as the listener. Around the two-minute mark, the instrumentation briefly expands, allowing the song to exhale before fading back into its reflective stillness.

By this point, there is an almost unconscious physical reaction to the song. You find yourself swaying gently from side to side, rooting not only for Tower, but for yourself, too. That is one of the song’s strongest qualities: its ability to create reflection without demanding it outright.

As her softened vocals dissolve into the background, and we hear her gently ask if she is alone, the faint snapping sounds almost pull the listener back into reality.

Like its title suggests, “Wildflower” blooms gently. It is a soft, emotionally resonant record that positions Tower as someone breaking free from emotional confusion and slowly learning how to grow on her own terms. By holding up a mirror to her own vulnerability, she leaves listeners room to step inside the song and see themselves reflected in it, too.

Step into Tower’s world and give Wildflower a listen:

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The release comes on the heels of his October 2025 ‘Fuji‘ album, named after the Fuji genre, a Yoruba dance sound deeply rooted in Islamic-influenced delivery and traditional percussion. Announcing the record via his social media pages, Adekunle Gold emphasised that “Formation” is their “first ever” collaboration—a detail that still leaves many wondering why it took this long and why now. However, with “Formation”, the collaboration arrives at a time when both artists occupy a similar creative space, one that naturally aligns with Olamide’s long-standing flirtation with Fuji influences.

Produced by Chillz, “Formation” continues the sonic thread of Adekunle Gold’s Fuji album, which explains its inclusion as part of a pack release alongside select tracks from the project. The record leans fully into that world, carrying a delivery that suggests not just influence but studied familiarity with the genre. It opens on a percussive groove and a pacy cadence, with both artists referencing “electro fuji” within the song—an indication of how they frame the record itself. Adekunle Gold’s delivery is smooth and measured, though a slightly huskier texture might have added more weight to its Fuji leanings. Olamide, however, steps in with a verse that supplies that missing grit, reinforcing the record’s foundation and sharpening its identity.

“Formation” sits comfortably within the growing pocket of neo-Fuji—a space where pop sensibilities are woven into traditional structures, reshaping a decades-old sound into something more contemporary. It’s a feel-good record, but one that remains conscious of its roots, as both artists push at the edges of heritage while still moving like students of it.

What makes “Formation” resonate is the collaboration and the timing of it. After years of parallel evolution, Adekunle Gold and Olamide meet at a point where their artistic languages overlap more naturally than ever. The record builds on history, subtly reinforcing their roles as both interpreters and preservers of a sound that continues to stretch beyond its origins.

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We’re here because sometimes you stumble on a voice that feels like something you’ve been missing without knowing. For me, that voice sounds a lot like Reiinn.

From the moment you press play, there’s something disarming about her. Reiinn’s music sounds like a prayer, carrying a softness that makes you want to listen again and again.

Born Oluwatimileyin Lawrence, Reiinn takes us into a world that feels expressive, intentional, and very much her own.

Growing up, she would follow her brother to the studio, writing songs over YouTube beats and instrumentals he produced. According to her, music has always felt tied to her existence.

When she eventually chose to step into music professionally in December 2024, it wasn’t because everything was perfectly lined up. It was because music became the one thing she could create, even in the absence of resources.

Reiinn describes her music as soul music that feels like a prayer, and that description becomes clearer the more you listen. In many ways, Reiinn’s music sounds like a prayer because of how personal, honest, and unforced it feels.

Her world also extends beyond sound into visuals and aesthetics. She leans into a reindeer-inspired identity, with bold eyeshadow, expressive styling, and statement pieces that feel like extensions of her personality. I was pleasantly surprised when Reiinn confessed to not knowing how to apply makeup. It’s all a bet every time, she says, and I hope all my bets are as successful as her attempts.

Unlike the vibe you might get from her visuals, Reiinn doesn’t see the studio as a playground. Instead, she treats it as a space for focus and creation, working intentionally across whatever comes to her. She also shared plans to incorporate her drawing abilities into her music in the future.

Her sound sits somewhere between alt-pop and Afro-soul, but even those labels are loose references rather than definitions. Her debut EP, Deer She Is, is introspective, reflective, and emotionally layered. Reiinn’s music sounds like a prayer here in the way each track feels like a moment of stillness rather than performance.

On the second part of her recent drop, “Don’t Know,” she delivers a contrast that defines much of her music. It carries a groovy rhythm paired with heavy emotional weight. It’s easy to move to, but beneath that ease lies burnout, emotional exhaustion, and the struggle of trying to meet expectations while feeling disconnected inside. The honesty in lines like, “these days I don’t feel nothing, there’s a void in my heart I just can’t explain,” lingers long after the track ends.

With “Beautiful,” Reiinn shifts into a softer space. The tone becomes reassuring, almost like a gentle reminder directed at someone who needs to hear it most. It’s a song that feels like affirmation, and each time she says, “if you forget, I’m your reminder, you’re just so fire,” I smile a little.

Her spirituality also runs through her work. On “Nobody,” she brings her faith forward in a way that feels personal rather than performative, asking for peace and guidance in a tone that mirrors dependence.

That thread continues in “Lullaby for you,” where she revisits a familiar childhood comfort song and reframes it as a promise to her inner child that things will eventually be okay.

When asked what inspires her, Reiinn described something broader than just individual artists. She finds inspiration in life itself. In the world, in people, in experiences, and in the idea of being able to share those moments with others. While she acknowledges influences like Ye, her inspiration isn’t limited to names or categories. It’s rooted in everything around her, and in the endless possibilities that come with creation.

Her session on Cool FM with Charly Boy offered a glimpse into her mindset. What stood out to her was that people will always be opinionated, so it’s up to you to be yourself and remain madly in love with the person you are.

Honestly, if you haven’t listened to her yet, this is your sign to tap in. When asked what she hopes people take away from her music, she emphasized that it’s okay to feel everything as a human being. She hopes her music leaves listeners feeling as if their soul has been hugged and listened to — with a big kiss on the forehead — while they dance freely in their own space. As a frequent listener, I’m here to say: mission accomplished.

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Afro house has become one of the most fluid bridges between Africa’s melodic instincts and Europe’s electronic club culture. “Girl In Ibiza” sits right inside that corridor. The production leans on a rolling four-on-the-floor groove, patient percussion, and atmospheric synths that stretch outward like a horizon line. It’s the kind of instrumental that allows the groove to breathe, giving listeners time to sink into its pulse. 

Joshua Baraka’s vocal is the main draw on ‘Girl In Ibiza’. His delivery sits relaxed in the pocket, gliding over the rhythm with easy emotional presence; it is smooth, warm, and present. The hook feels instantly familiar, the kind of topline that sticks after one listen. Lyrics start with a simple summer-story setup (“Last summer / I met the one / I couldn’t speak her language / But I understood what her…”), evoking a fleeting Ibiza encounter with a language-barrier romance narrative.

What lifts the record beyond a typical Afro-house cut is Joshua Baraka’s vocal presence. Known for his smooth Afropop and R&B inflections, Joshua Baraka’s delivery is unlike his typical records. On ‘Girl In Ibiza’ he floats across WITH U’s production, with a delivery that is light, melodic, and slightly distant—as though sung through the haze of a beach party memory. The song’s romantic center revolves around a fleeting connection, the kind of encounter that feels cinematic in the moment and nostalgic the morning after.

The production from WITH U understands the setting implied by the title. Ibiza, long synonymous with global dance culture and house music nightlife, has shaped the sound of countless club records and DJ sets over the years. Instead of leaning into aggressive festival energy, the duo opts for restraint. Soft synth chords swell slowly behind Joshua Baraka’s voice while the percussion circles steadily.

There’s also something quietly symbolic about the collaboration. Afrohouse itself thrives on cross-continental exchange—African rhythms reinterpreted through global electronic production. With Joshua Baraka’s East African vocal tone layered over a European-leaning house arrangement, “Girl In Ibiza” captures that hybrid identity well. The track executes Afrohouse with the guest artist by simply settling into its pocket and letting the groove do its work.Ultimately, “Girl In Ibiza” is less about narrative and more about mood. It’s a record designed for movement—head nods, slow dancing, or the kind of carefree swaying that happens when a DJ locks into the right frequency. “Girl In Ibiza” sees WITH U and Joshua Baraka deliver a song that feels effortless, sun-kissed, and quietly addictive.

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For those who have been paying attention, Amu Kingsley Chibuike — known professionally as Kendickson — has been steadily sketching his outline within Afropop’s ever-expanding canvas. Records like ‘Ride or Die’ and ‘Remind Me’ leaned into romance and vulnerability, pairing textured emotion with accessible rhythm. It resonated with many, and the numbers followed: millions of cumulative streams, a City People Music Award for Best New Act, and quiet nods from tastemakers, including recognition on Ghanaian watchlists spotlighting new Nigerian talent. But if those records introduced him as promising, his new release, ‘God’s Plan’, is framing him as intentional.

At its core, ‘God’s Plan’ is beyond triumph in the loud, champagne-splash sense. It is about endurance — the unglamorous middle stretch of belief.

From the first few seconds, the production establishes restraint as a philosophy. Warm percussion patterns sit comfortably within Afrobeats tradition, but they’re not engineered for frenzy. The drums breathe, and the tempo creeps with a gentle melodic progression—likely built on layered synth pads and subtle guitar licks—carrying emotional weight without tipping into melodrama. It feels devotional but contemporary, reflective yet forward-facing. The sonic architecture is disciplined, allowing space for the message to land without distraction.

And that message is clear. Kendickson writes from the vantage point of someone who understands silent labor with no hints of performative flex. Instead, he leans into themes of personal sacrifice, discipline, and spiritual reliance. His delivery is calm and firm, as though he’s testifying, molding ‘God’s Plan’ as his personal take on success as something internal and divine-led.

One of the record’s most resonant philosophical anchors, “Onipa nti se Onyame,” draws a sharp distinction between human limitation and divine authority. It’s a powerful insertion—culturally specific but universally understood. By blending Nigerian Pidgin, English, and Twi, Kendickson code-switches, perhaps for aesthetic effect, which ultimately expands the emotional reach of the record. ‘God’s Plan’ feels borderless in the way contemporary African music is at its best—grounded at home.

Vocally, he avoids excess. His tone carries quiet confidence — the kind that suggests someone who has already decided to trust the process, regardless of how long it takes. There’s no unnecessary belting nor dramatic runs meant to steal the spotlight. Instead, he leans into clarity with a deliberate phrasing.

What makes ‘God’s Plan’ compelling is how it resonates beyond the headphones. It feels aimed at young people navigating pressure, at creatives building in obscurity, at hustlers who understand what it means to carry weight alone. It’s music that soundtracks ambition; it stabilizes and grounds a listener.

With ‘God’s Plan’, Kendickson chooses meaning. And that choice feels strategic. As he inches toward a full-length project, this single serves as a thesis statement for his 2026 chapter—one rooted in resilience, faith, and cultural identity.

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Predominantly a rap artist, her name change initially sparked speculation that she was pivoting toward Afropop for a broader share of the Nigerian listening market. But that wasn’t the case. Whatever informed the rebrand, none of it obstructs the warmth and grit of her delivery. She continues to rap-sing with the same essence she introduced to day-one fans, just sharpened with experience. And on this new release with Nigeria’s finest pop star, Ayra Starr, Elestee coats her rap-sing flair over Ayra’s radiant pop sheen, offering listeners a crisp, satisfying taste of what happens when a rising talent collaborates with a superstar.

“On A Low”, produced by Sparq, opens with vibrant, cuddly guitar harmonies softened by tender percussion. Elestee sketches the story of a steamy, secret romance she hopes to fully explore with her muse. Throughout the track, she and Ayra Starr trade verses like a clean rally in a tennis match—each pass deepening the layers of their clandestine connection.

The song’s groove leans heavily into Elestee’s duality. She spotlights her melodic strengths in the opening verse, then slips back into her rap roots on the second:

“Hi, I just wanna know, tell me
Know you wanna keep the ring on my celly
Know you wanna put a ring on my finger
Yh, your little spawn inside of my belly…”

Her verse snaps into place with Ayra Starr’s commanding presence in the pre-chorus. Ayra delivers a smooth, assertive pop flow that blends seamlessly with Elestee’s cadence, especially in the final stretch of the chorus, where Elestee’s ad-libs feather in as Ayra takes full charge.

“On A Low” ultimately works because it doesn’t force either artist outside their zone. Instead, it lets their strengths brush against each other until something warm, slick, and replay-ready forms. Elestee stands firm in her rap-sing identity, Ayra Starr elevates the track with her polished pop firepower, and together they create a record that feels like a quiet declaration: Elestee may be rising, but she’s doing so on her own terms, with enough confidence to match one of Africa’s biggest pop stars beat for beat.

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Following the success of “Chandelier” and his 11-track studio album ‘Candor’—a project that explored the struggles, resilience, and daily realities of the average Nigerian—Monaky enlists an artist with a similarly weighty vocal texture to craft a record that amplifies their chemistry and highlights their individual artistry.

On the nearly three-minute track, Monaky sidesteps introspective storytelling or any consequential theme; instead, as the title “7 Grams” suggests, he paints a vivid picture of marijuana indulgence and its euphoric aftereffects over Yo X’s vibrant 808s, kick drums, and bouncy production. The song opens with the rhythm of Yo X’s instrumental, quickly followed by Monaky’s husky yet soothing vocals as he appraises the recreational drug through memorable metaphors that draw listeners in.

He unfolds the story by lamenting the rising cost of the drug and how inflation in Nigeria seems to deprive him of this small comfort. He goes further, narrating his willingness to go the extra mile to secure enough from his dealer, a sentiment that resonates with street-hop audiences. By the time Jeriq steps in with a more grounding verse, listeners are fully immersed in both the song’s groove and its narrative. For Jeriq, marijuana becomes an escape from harsh realities and inner demons. In his signature southeastern-accented delivery, he raps: “Gee, pass me the lighter, I dey put my demon for crusher,  My daily medication na ganja.”

It’s an honest admission delivered in his gruff tone, one that reinforces his status as a street voice of reason. Meanwhile, Yo X’s bubbling production never relents, keeping the listener anchored in its head-bopping, neck-snapping rhythm.

While “7 Grams” is centered on the recreational drug that is marijuana, Monaky and Jeriq’s delivery offer listeners a glimpse into what escapism to them means. With rugged vocals and grounded stories, they find release in rhythm and smoke. In trading verses, Monaky and Jeriq share a moment suspended between grit and groove, crafting a record that feels both indulgent and effortlessly raw.

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It is on this progressive yet purist foundation, one that conveys the essence of Fuji, that oSHaMO has built his craft and continues to draw creative inspiration. Even when not intentionally creating a Fuji record, the genre’s glory—its rapid, polyphonic drumming patterns, call-and-response vocals, and vocal inflections reminiscent of Arabic-style singing blended with Yoruba poetic traditions—often seeps into oSHaMO’s work.

Building a community of fans who love this style and winning new ones along the way, oSHaMO follows up his 2024 debut project ‘First of My Kind EP’, expanding on the viral success of “Superfuji (Gobe)” with a new body of work titled ‘I D R I S’. The no-feature, 7-track EP, which runs for 19 minutes, showcases oSHaMO’s Fuji tendencies and inflections over Southwestern, swelling percussions—proving again why he’s one of the finest prodigies championing the genre and well on his way to becoming one of its defining acts of his generation and beyond.

The neo-Fuji project opens with the Fuji-leaning yet soulful track “Hallelujah”. Over soft piano keys, oSHaMO reflects with deep gratitude on his journey from rags to riches, his choral refrain of “Hallelujah” carrying that emotion forward. The second track, “Magba”, serves as a perfect pitch to hook listeners for the rest of the EP. With its upbeat mara music-style production by MyIzSpectrum and Skeelz, crafted primarily for the dancefloor, oSHaMO elevates Fuji into the realm of West African dance music, Afrobeats.

“Contour” follows as a midtempo song with Afrobeat influences, where oSHaMO pens lines of adoration and desire for his muse over minimalist percussions, shakers, vibrant pianos, and trumpet arrangements. Producer SKONDATRACK blends these elements seamlessly, creating a sublime soundscape that elevates oSHaMO’s delivery into the perfect love rendition.

The fourth track, “Adun”, as oSHaMO says in the intro, “this is a love song”, fleshes out the idea that “love trumps all” over a bouncy, shaker-driven Amapiano production. “Owo (Olomoge)” opens with shakers, percussions, and the progressions of a toned-down live Fuji rendition, gradually building into a robust rhythm powered by the talking drum and batá (the double-headed hourglass drum).

The EP nears its finale with “Shekere”, a neo-Fuji production by Thasoundz, featuring lyrics reminiscent of folk music. Here, oSHaMO sings about the alluring dance of a woman’s waistline and the seductive waist beads that accompany it. Within this vibrant atmosphere of cultural and social frolicking, he crafts one of the most sonically rich moments of his sophomore studio project, as melodies burst forth from the talking drum.

‘I D R I S’ concludes its mesmerizing experience with the viral “Superfuji (Gobe)”, closing with a cultural blend of raw Fuji percussion and Afrobeats melodies that birth an infectious, street-smart groove — a befitting closer for a project that consolidates his artistic identity. 
In a time when Fuji’s influence often lurks beneath the surface of Afrobeats and street-pop, oSHaMO stands as one of the few artists audacious enough to wear its spirit openly. A blazing torchbearer in the neo-Fuji movement, he repackages heritage with swagger, giving Fuji a fresh, youthful pulse without losing its grit or roots

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