Blaqbonez ft. Asake – Chanel

Blaqbonez, the Chocolate City rap chameleon, links up with Asake on “Chanel”, a track that’s been bubbling on social media platforms and studios since those viral April studio clips surfaced. This is a full-circle moment, as both artists crossed paths back in their Obafemi Awolowo University days, and Blaqbonez has been teasing the chemistry. Produced by Johnson IP (Sleepless IP) and Spykida, the beat is a masterclass in contemporary Nigerian fusion. It rides a laid-back yet infectious groove, a meld of smooth percussion, glossy synth layers, and a subtle bounce that keeps the energy cruising rather than exploding. There’s a luxurious, almost cinematic sheen to it: sparkling hi-hats, warm bass undertones, and melodic flourishes that evoke high-end fashion and fit the title. It’s not the raw, street-trap energy Blaqbonez sometimes leans into, nor is it peak Asake Fuji-Amapiano chaos.

Blaqbonez opens strong with the intro and chorus, setting a confident, playful tone: Fresh Prince of Bel-Air / On my neck, IYOO CARTEL / Bad girl say she want Chanel / F’okan bale, Nike, everything correct / Me, I hear say you dey vex / Hmm, pẹ̀lẹ́ — witty wordplay, luxury name-drops Chanel, Cartier vibes, and Nike as shorthand for perfection and that signature Blaqbonez flow that switches between rap precision and melodic sing-rap. It’s boastful but light-hearted, with Yoruba-infused lines adding cultural flavour and relatability. He handles the bulk of the song, anchoring it with charisma. Asake slides in, literally, with a swagger-filled verse that feels like a highlight reel. He brings his signature rhythmic bounce and ad-libs, elevating the energy. His delivery complements Blaqbonez perfectly — where Blaqbonez already laid the rhythmic foundation of “Chanel”, Asake followed similarly with a loose, hypnotic, and rap-sing delivery. 

Blaqbonez’s clever punchlines and Asake’s magnetic presence turn “Chanel” into a celebration of their lanes colliding. “Chanel” hits that sweet spot with an instantly replayable sound without being throwaway. Blaqbonez manages to perfect the sound, cadence and overall vision with star power and execution. The production gives it legs for playlists and parties, the lyrics deliver memorable hooks and flexes, and the Blaqbonez-Asake pairing feels surprisingly sacred.

“Chanel” is music built around mood, attraction, fashion-coded luxury, and cool-factor performance. But even within those familiar Afropop themes, both artists inject enough identity to stop the song from becoming generic. Asake’s street-rooted melodic confidence contrasts nicely with Blaqbonez’s ironic playboy energy. One sounds spiritually grounded in success; the other sounds amused by it.

KFMD ft. Qing Madi, BNXN & Victony – Come Slide

There’s a softness to “Come Slide” that immediately separates it from the louder end of contemporary Afrobeats collaborations. In an era where songs often arrive bloated with unnecessary switches and overstimulation, KFMD, Qing Madi, BNXN, and Victony choose atmosphere instead. The record leans into intimacy, restraint, and melodic chemistry, allowing every artist to exist naturally inside the same emotional space rather than fighting for dominance.

Built on smooth Afro-R&B textures, “Come Slide” feels like music designed for late-night conversations, slow drives, and quiet obsession. The beat produced in the KFMD ecosystem is a bright, playful Afrobeats groove with strong Afro-pop DNA—punchy percussion, melodic guitar licks that shimmer in the background, and a bouncy rhythm section that creates an effortless pocket. It’s polished without being overproduced—light and infectious rather than heavy or bass-heavy. The groove has that irresistible summer quality: warm, danceable, and designed for repeat listens, car rides, and beach hangs.

Qing Madi remains the emotional centre of the track. Over the last two years, she has gradually carved a lane where vulnerability and melody coexist effortlessly, and “Come Slide” continues that trajectory. Here, she sounds calm, assured, and fully aware of how to control the mood of a song without oversinging. Her voice glides through the production with a kind of understated elegance, setting the tone before BNXN enters with the melodic fluidity he has practically mastered at this point. BNXN understands rhythm in a way many vocalists don’t; he bends syllables around percussion rather than simply singing over it. ‘Come Slide’ is fun, flirtatious, and celebratory — attraction, good vibes, living in the moment, and that classic ‘come through’ invitation, blending English with Pidgin flavour, keeping it relatable and catchy.

Then there’s Victony, whose presence subtly changes the energy of the record, slightly disrupting it. Victony has always excelled at sounding emotionally detached and emotionally invested at the same time, a quality that makes his features memorable even when they’re brief. His verse on “Come Slide” arrives with relaxed confidence, adding texture and emotional contrast to the record’s already dreamy atmosphere.

KFMD’s role on the song is equally important because the production direction holds the collaboration together. There’s a noticeable consistency in the sonic choices tied to recent KFMD-associated releases, particularly records like “Pepper Me” with Qing Madi and Zinoleesky, where mood and groove take priority over explosive structure. “Come Slide” follows that same philosophy. The beat never rushes, with transitions that feel seamless while still retaining momentum.

Chike ft. Syemca – Pity My Soul

Some heartbreak records don’t announce themselves loudly, nor do they rely on dramatic crescendos or excessive vocal acrobatics to communicate pain. Instead, it settles quietly into your chest and lingers there. “Pity My Soul” by Chike and Syemca belongs to that category of music — emotionally heavy, understated, and deeply human.

The song arrives as a reunion between two artists whose chemistry feels rooted beyond music. Chike teams up with his brother Syemca on “Pity My Soul”, following their previous successful collaboration “Love Egbuomo”. Chike and Syemca’s relationship predates the industry itself, with Syemca reportedly playing a major role in encouraging Chike to pursue music professionally. 

From the opening seconds, the production understands restraint. Produced, mixed, and mastered by DeeYasso, the beat is a polished, minimalist Afro-soul/Afropop fusion. It features smooth instrumentation — subtle percussion, warm melodic lines, and atmospheric elements that prioritise mood over high-energy bounce. The production stays understated, creating space for the vocals and lyrics to lead.

On “Pity My Soul”, Chike sounds emotionally exhausted rather than theatrically heartbroken. He has built an entire career around emotional transparency, but what makes him compelling is how conversational his vulnerability feels. There’s a weariness in his delivery that makes lines like “Whenever you are not in my corner, I pity my soul” land with genuine sincerity instead of polished melodrama.

The song thrives on relatability and cultural familiarity. One of the record’s standout moments — “I go trek from here to Okokomaiko” — instantly grounds the emotion in lived Nigerian reality. It’s not just a clever lyric; it’s a geographical metaphor for devotion, using a recognisable Lagos reference point to express the lengths someone is willing to go for love. The song dives into themes of love, dependency, pain, vulnerability, and inner turmoil. “Whenever you are not in my corner / I pity my soul / Call on me I go trek / From here to Okokomaiko / Ah ah ah my medulla is not in control”

It’s a raw expression of how absence or emotional disconnect leaves one feeling lost and heavy-hearted. Chike delivers with his trademark wounded, expressive voice — honest and deeply human, sounding genuinely affected. Syemca adds harmonic texture and complementary layers, strengthening the brotherly chemistry without overpowering the lead. Their vocal blend feels natural and familial. The multilingual songwriting also strengthens the song’s emotional texture. Moving between English, Pidgin, and Igbo, Chike and Syemca avoid sounding overly polished or performative. The language shifts feel natural, like real conversations between lovers trying to salvage emotional closeness. That authenticity gives the song its replay value.

By the final chorus, the song leaves behind a feeling that’s difficult to fake — emotional fatigue wrapped inside tenderness. And sometimes, that quiet honesty is far more powerful than spectacle.

LISA, Anitta & Rema ft. FIFA Sound – Goals

Some songs are built for charts. Some are built for stadiums. “Goals” by LISA, Anitta, and Rema — released in collaboration with FIFA Sound — is clearly aiming for both. The record arrives with the glossy ambition of a global sports anthem, but what makes it interesting is how each artist still manages to preserve traces of their individual identity inside a song engineered for worldwide consumption.

From the first few seconds, “Goals” sounds massive. The production leans into bright percussion, cinematic synths, pulsating drums, and chant-ready melodies designed to thrive in arenas, highlight reels, and tournament montages. There’s an intentional sense of movement throughout the song; everything feels built around momentum. Even the beat structure mirrors the emotional rise-and-fall of a football match — tension, release, celebration.

FIFA Sound collaborations often struggle with sounding overly corporate or emotionally empty, but “Goals” avoids complete sterility because of the artists involved. Each performer brings a distinct rhythmic personality that stops the record from collapsing into generic sports-pop territory.

LISA arrives with the kind of polished charisma that has defined her global crossover presence beyond BLACKPINK. Her delivery is sharp, rhythmic, and performance-driven, fitting naturally into the song’s high-energy framework. She understands spectacle, which is essential on a record like this. Even when the lyrics lean heavily into motivational clichés and victory imagery, her confidence sells the performance.

Anitta brings warmth and bounce to the track. Her presence subtly shifts the energy from pure stadium anthem into something danceable and flirtatious. There’s a Latin-pop fluidity in her delivery that complements the song’s global ambition, preventing the production from feeling too rigid or militaristic.

Then there’s Rema, whose inclusion feels particularly significant given Afrobeats’ continued integration into mainstream international pop infrastructure. Rema approaches “Goals” with controlled coolness rather than explosive theatrics. His melodic instincts naturally soften the song’s more manufactured edges, adding groove and personality to an otherwise highly structured production. Even within a FIFA-sponsored anthem, he still sounds unmistakably like himself.

Lyrically, “Goals” operates within expected territory — ambition, winning, elevation, confidence, overcoming pressure, with sports anthems thriving more on emotional immediacy than lyrical complexity. The key is whether the energy feels convincing enough to soundtrack moments of collective excitement, and “Goals” largely succeeds in that regard.

What’s most interesting is how the song reflects the current globalization of pop music. A Thai superstar, a Brazilian hitmaker, and a Nigerian genre-shifting artist collaborating under FIFA’s banner would’ve sounded almost improbable a decade ago. Now it feels entirely natural. “Goals” exists at the intersection of streaming culture, football spectacle, and international pop hybridity — where geography matters less than reach, algorithmic visibility, and cross-market appeal.

The production also smartly leaves room for rhythmic diversity without losing cohesion. Afro-influenced percussion, Latin bounce, electronic pop textures, and chant-style hooks all coexist without sounding stitched together by committee. That balance keeps the song from becoming sonically overcrowded.

Magixx ft. Fola — Juice & Liquor

“Juice & Liquor” by Magixx and Fola leans into a mood-first, structure-second format — a late-night Afrobeats record built around intoxication as both metaphor and atmosphere. Not just alcohol, but the blur between desire, escape, and emotional surrender.

From the opening, the production sets a slow-burning tone. It’s built on mid-tempo percussion, hazy log drums, faint synth washes, and a bassline that never really rushes itself. Everything feels slightly smudged at the edges, like the record is meant to sound the way a dimly lit room feels after a long night. There’s no aggressive drop or attention-grabbing switch; instead, the beat stretches itself out and allows repetition to do the heavy lifting.

Magixx has always occupied a space in Afrobeats where vulnerability and seduction meet without conflict. On “Juice & Liquor”, he sounds fully aware of that balance. His delivery is light, almost airy, but still emotionally grounded. The lyrics lean into familiar themes of romantic intoxication, emotional dependency, and late-night confession, but what makes it work is the restraint in his tone. 

Fola, on the other hand, brings contrast. Where Magixx floats, Fola anchors. His vocal tone carries a slightly rougher texture, more street-tinged and immediate. That contrast is what gives the record its internal tension. His lines feel more conversational, less polished, like thoughts being spoken rather than performed. It creates a push-and-pull dynamic that keeps the song from collapsing into monotony. Together, both artists meet in the same emotional space. The “juice and liquor” framing isn’t just aesthetic branding; it’s a structure for how the song moves. The lyrics circle the idea of losing control willingly, of letting emotion blur judgement, and of desire that feels easier when slightly numbed. It’s not heartbreak in the traditional sense; it’s the aftermath of it, where feeling too much and feeling nothing start to sound the same.

There’s also a subtle maturity in how both artists approach space. The gaps between vocals, the softness of transitions, the refusal to overcrowd the mix — all of it contributes to a record that feels intentionally intimate rather than commercially maximalist. “Juice & Liquor” ultimately works because it knows its own temperature, sitting somewhere in between, where decisions are slower, feelings are heavier, and everything sounds slightly closer than it should.

LISTEN TO THE FULL NEW MUSIC FRIDAY PLAYLIST BELOW

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The announcement was made in a series of emotional posts shared via her Instagram story in the early hours of Wednesday.

Ndika, also known in industry circles as “Big Mike,” was a Nigerian music executive, entrepreneur, and the founder of NaijaReview, a multimedia platform focused on Afro-house and contemporary African music.

“God took him,” she wrote in her first post.

“My husband died,” she added in a second.

In a third post, she wrote: “God took him. 13 years. 13 f***ing years.”

The news came as a shock to the public, as Niniola has long maintained a private personal life and rarely shared details of her relationship publicly. The revelation also confirmed, for the first time, that the singer had been privately married for 13 years.

Who Was Michael Ndika?

Ndika’s work in the Nigerian music industry was largely behind the scenes, but widely regarded within professional circles.

Before fully transitioning into the music business and artist management, he had built a career in technology, working as a Systems Engineer and later as Head of IT at Associated Haulages. His background in structured systems and operations would later influence his approach to building music platforms and managing creative talent.

In February 2011, Ndika founded NaijaReview as a music blog, at a time when Nigerian music had not yet fully broken into global mainstream visibility. The platform later evolved into a multimedia hub covering Afro-house and contemporary African music, focusing on promotion, distribution, and early-stage artist development during a formative period for the industry.

He also managed Niniola for several years, a relationship that began in 2013 after she attempted to reach producer Sarz following her time on Project Fame West Africa. Ndika, who was then managing the producer, took her call. What began as a professional negotiation later evolved into both a creative partnership and a personal relationship. He became her manager around the release of her debut single “Ibadi” in 2014.

Beyond NaijaReview, Ndika was also involved in philanthropic work through Adopt-a-Child’s Education, an NGO focused on educational support initiatives.

Industry figures have described him as one of the early contributors to Nigeria’s digital music ecosystem, particularly in the development of online promotion platforms and artist infrastructure during the pre-streaming era. His work, though largely uncelebrated publicly, played a role in shaping the visibility of early Afro-house in Nigeria.

The circumstances surrounding his death have not been disclosed at the time of reporting.

In an October 2025 interview, Niniola had dismissed public speculation about her marital status, underscoring how closely guarded her private life had remained until now.

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Leading the African contingent is Tems, who secured three nominations across some of the ceremony’s most competitive fields. She earned a nod in Best Female R&B/Pop Artist alongside names like SZA, Ella Mai, and Coco Jones, while her song “First” landed a nomination in the BET Her category. She also picked up a Viewers’ Choice nomination for “Raindance”, her collaboration with Dave.

Tems’ multiple nominations further reinforce her crossover positioning beyond the confines of Afrobeats. Over the last few years, she has steadily evolved into one of the continent’s most internationally adaptable artists, moving fluidly between R&B, soul, alternative pop, and African rhythms while maintaining a distinct identity. The BET recognition reflects how naturally she now exists within global award conversations rather than appearing as a regional inclusion.

South African star Tyla also continued her international award-show run with nominations that further cement her breakout momentum. Her hit “Chanel” earned a nomination for Video of the Year, placing her beside heavyweight global acts in one of the night’s most visible categories.

Meanwhile, Wizkid and Asake secured a historic nomination in the Best Group category — a rare recognition for Nigerian collaborators within a traditionally U.S.-leaning category. Their nod reflects the growing commercial strength of African collaborative projects and how African acts are increasingly being considered beyond international classifications.

For Burna Boy, the nominations continue a now-familiar streak of global visibility. He earned a Best Collaboration nomination for “WGFT”, his appearance on Gunna’s record. The nod adds another international recognition to Burna Boy’s increasingly expansive catalogue of global collaborations, further highlighting his consistency within American rap and crossover spaces.

One of the most noticeable aspects of this year’s nominations is the absence of several African names who have recently dominated international conversations, including Davido, Ayra Starr and Rema in the major music fields. Instead, the 2026 nominations largely centre on Nigerian and South African artists who have spent the last year making stronger crossover impressions through collaborations, touring, viral moments, and internationally resonant records.

The wider nominations were led by Cardi B with six nods, while Kendrick Lamar and Mariah the Scientist followed closely behind. Yet even within a nomination slate dominated by American rap and R&B heavyweights, African artists maintained a visible imprint across collaboration, video, group, and pop categories.

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Released as one of the standout collaborations from Gunna’s 2025 album ‘The Last Wun’, “WGFT” quickly became a fan favourite for its moody production, melodic bounce, and Burna Boy’s effortless Afro-fusion presence layered into Gunna’s glossy trap world. The record represented another example of Burna Boy’s growing comfort inside international rap spaces without diluting the texture of his own sound.

For Burna Boy, the certification is about consistency at a level no African artist has maintained in the UK market for this long. Over the last few years, he has steadily built one of the strongest commercial catalogues by any African act in Britain, with records like “Location”, “Own It”, “Ye”, “Be Honest”, and “Last Last” all becoming major certified successes. 

What makes Burna Boy’s run particularly remarkable is how fluidly he moves between worlds. On one end, he remains rooted in African rhythm, identity, and storytelling. On the other, he has become a reliable collaborator within global pop and hip-hop ecosystems, appearing beside artists across rap, R&B, dancehall, and alternative music while still sounding unmistakably like himself. “WGFT” sits comfortably within that lineage: a transatlantic collaboration that is naturally stitched together by atmosphere and charisma.

The Gold certification also reflects the continued appetite for Afrobeats-adjacent collaborations within the UK, a market that has historically embraced African music earlier and more aggressively than many Western territories. Burna Boy has arguably become one of the defining figures of that movement, helping push African music from diaspora playlists into mainstream chart culture, arena tours, and award conversations.

At this point, milestones like these no longer arrive as surprises. They arrive as reminders of how durable Burna Boy’s global presence has become. Whether leading his own records or stepping into another artist’s sonic universe, he continues to turn collaborations into cultural moments, and “WGFT” is now the latest addition to a catalogue that keeps rewriting what international success can look like for African artists.

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Raised between Bariga and Abule-Oja in a regular Christian Nigerian household and educated through model colleges before studying Estate Management at the University of Lagos, Almst Joey carries himself like someone moulded by structure and escape. Anime, raves, gym sessions, gaming, heartbreak, women, loss, and the chaos of Lagos life all bleed naturally into his music, which he calls “written intimacy”. Across a conversation that moved from his “music or die trying” turning point to the intentionality behind his sparse releases, the artist born Osagie Joey Ekunwe spoke with the same calm confidence that defines his records: soft-spoken, reflective, but certain about the world he is slowly building around the name Almst Joey. 

Who is Almst Joey beyond the music, and what kind of environment shaped him growing up?

Almst Joey: I grew up in a regular Christian Nigerian household, but I definitely wasn’t a choirboy. I attended two model colleges—one in Badagry and another in Ikorodu—before studying Estate Management at the University of Lagos. I split my upbringing between Bariga and Abule-Oja. Outside music, I spend a lot of time watching anime, going to the gym, attending raves, and playing games.

How would you describe your personal style, given the Pan-African aesthetic you present?

Almst Joey: My style is laid-back and earthy. I’m into cowries, dungarees, jewellery, and accessories that paint a picture of freedom. My hair is semi-freeform dreadlocks, I only redo them once or twice a year. It’s a “Dada” style to me.

What course did you study at the University of Lagos?

Almst Joey: I studied Estate Management. It’s obviously very different from music, but real estate just wasn’t for me.

When did you discover music, and when did you decide to pursue it professionally?

Almst Joey: I’ve always loved music. I started writing from a very young age, and at first I was naturally drawn to rap because that was the dominant sound then and around me. At some point in my life, though, it became a “music or die trying” situation for me. I started saving money, negotiating payment plans with my producer just so I could record. That was when music stopped being casual and became completely serious.

What parts of your real-life experiences naturally find their way into your music?

Almst Joey: I love women. My love for women is a major theme in my music. Songs like “If I Dey Lie” celebrate women artistically. I also draw from personal loss—I wrote a song about a friend who passed away, and it was difficult because I found out late. A lot of experiences from people around me also find their way into my lyrics. Sometimes I tell stories that aren’t directly mine but are stories I know deeply. Anime also feeds my imagination creatively.

How would you describe your sound to someone hearing it for the first time?

Almst Joey: I’d describe it as “written intimacy”. I take ordinary, everyday human interactions and emotions and turn them into music. My latest single, “Obimo”, is a good example — it’s about seeing a girl, being captivated by her, and everything that follows emotionally. My sound is really about emotional connection and relatability.

Is there a strategy behind the roughly one-single-per-year release spacing since your debut?

Almst Joey: Yes, it’s both strategic and intentional. My team and I planned it that way. Even during quiet periods publicly, I’ve been in the studio constantly—writing, meeting new producers, and building my catalogue. I’m definitely entering a phase where people will hear a lot more music from me.

Are upcoming releases going to be singles or a full project?

Almst Joey: A project is definitely coming. I can’t say exactly when yet, but there’ll probably be a few more singles before then. Or maybe I’ll just surprise everyone—like a jack-in-the-box.

What is more important to you at this stage—numbers, emotional connection, or artistic identity?

Almst Joey: Emotional connection comes first for me. I want my music to become part of people’s memories, the same way artists like Davido and Wizkid are tied to certain moments in people’s lives. Once people connect emotionally, they start understanding your artistic identity, and then the numbers follow naturally. Without connection, none of the rest matters.

Are there artists—Nigerian or global —whose approach to music or career building has influenced how you move?

Almst Joey: Definitely. I’m a big SAINt JHN fan. SAINt JHN influenced the way I think about vocal treatment. Wizkid inspires me with how calm and intentional he moves, while Davido inspires me with his work ethic and kindness. I’m also inspired by the rebellious energy of Benin artists like Rema and Shallipopi. The confidence of Burna Boy. Combining vocal artistry, intentionality, hard work, kindness, and rebellion—that’s the ideal blueprint for me.

Why did you choose to share your debut moment with Crayon, an already established artist?

Almst Joey: I released the original “If I Dey Lie” first, and it started gaining traction on TikTok. After that, I reached out to Crayon, he loved the song and jumped on it organically. It wasn’t some calculated debut strategy. A lot of OG fans still prefer the original version, but personally, I loved what Crayon added to the remix.

Is the ease and melodic sweetness across your records something cultivated intentionally or something that emerges naturally in the studio?

Almst Joey: It’s intentional. My sound has two sides. There’s the smooth, soft, soothing melodic side you hear on songs like “Obimo”, and then there’s a more urgent, upbeat, party-driven side which I teased on “Your Waist”. Both sides are deliberate expressions of who Almst Joey is. They’re two sides of the same coin.

In a saturated Nigerian music scene with many emerging acts, what will make you stand out long-term?

Almst Joey: Genuine connection with your community is what creates longevity. Music will always evolve, and artists will always be compared to one another, but what keeps you here is how deeply connected people feel to you. I want my fanbase, the Troops, to see me as more than just someone making good music—I want them to see me as a friend. Friends earn loyalty. That’s different from “jollof music” that gets quick excitement but fades away fast.

What do you think listeners most misunderstand about emerging artists today?

Almst Joey: People compare emerging artists to already established artists too quickly instead of actually listening to what the artist is trying to say. Every artist has their own voice, sound, and story, but people naturally try to connect new things to something familiar. That stops them from fully experiencing an artist’s individuality. Also, unsolicited advice from people who don’t fully understand your vision can become distracting.

What does success genuinely look like to you right now?

Almst Joey: Success for me is reaching 400 million streams, charting, selling out shows, and building my Troops into a global movement beyond Nigeria. But success is also relational for me. I want fans to approach me comfortably, like they’re meeting a friend, not some untouchable celebrity.

What have you not yet shown listeners about yourself?

Almst Joey: Everything people have heard so far is honestly just scratching the surface. They’ve heard the love music and glimpses of the upbeat side, but like an onion, there are still so many layers to my artistry that people haven’t seen yet. It’s like a universe I’m still building and painting.

What does Almst Joey want the name to represent in the future, and what is the significance of the spelling?

Almst Joey: It’s spelt A-L-M-S-T, not the regular “almost”. It’s a pun. I want the name to represent someone deeply grounded and authentic for the people—like a flag bearer. When they hear Almst Joey, they hear “Gbedu”. And it isn’t just about saying a jam is coming, but something culturally rooted and owned. I want people to feel like Almst Joey is their person.

The post The Soft-Spoken Freedom of Almst Joey appeared first on Afromixx.

BNXN, Sarz — The Game Needs Us

BNXN & Sarz’s “The Game Needs Us” EP is the smooth, cohesive Afro-fusion statement the game actually needed. BNXN links up with production maestro Sarz for The Game Needs Us, a tight five-track EP that clocks in at just over 15 minutes. This is a deliberate, vibe-first joint that builds on their proven chemistry from “Gwagwalada” and “Pidgin & English”. Sarz handles all production, crafting soundscapes that feel both familiar and freshly polished. BNXN glides over every beat with that signature buttery delivery—Pidgin, Yoruba, English, and even interpolated Bambara. “The Game Needs Us” reminds listeners why they fell in love with this sound in the first place. It delivers on Sarz’s addictive production and BNXN’s rich, gliding vocals, wrapped in chemistry that feels lived-in. “The Game Needs Us” is the sonic equivalent of a perfectly mixed drink: layered, intoxicating, and gone too soon.

Entirely produced by Sarz, the EP leans into the producer’s long-standing reputation for textured, rhythm-forward soundscapes that feel futuristic without abandoning African musicality. Across the project, percussion sits at the center of everything. Even the softer moments have movement hidden underneath them. The drums breathe, the synths glide in and out carefully, and the transitions between moods feel seamless. It is the kind of production that rewards headphones as much as it does late-night car speakers.

The opener, “Rum & Soda”, immediately establishes the EP’s atmosphere. Sarz builds the song around warm percussion, floating chords, and a subtle bounce that gives BNXN enough room to stretch melodically. Lyrically, the track thrives on escapism and romantic intoxication. BNXN sounds relaxed but intentional, slipping between flirtation and emotional vulnerability with the ease that has made him one of the strongest melody writers in Nigerian pop music. His writing is conversational but never lazy. He understands how to make longing sound smooth. “Back Outside”, the lead single, remains one of the project’s defining moments. The interpolation of Amadou & Mariam’s “Ko Neye Mounka Allah La” gives the track a nostalgic undercurrent while Sarz flips it into something sleek and contemporary. BNXN approaches the record with swagger, but there is still emotional tension beneath the surface. The song balances freedom and heartbreak in a way that mirrors modern Afropop’s obsession with emotional detachment disguised as enjoyment. The Bambara chorus translates to pure perseverance (“No matter what happens, we will keep going, don’t worry / Whatever comes our way, we will face it and move forward”). BNXN addresses lay-low periods, distractions (“You were out chasing a rainbow”), and his unbreakable grind (“My gbedu no go finish”). “Already” feels more introspective. Here, BNXN sounds reflective, singing about emotional certainty and romantic commitment without overcomplicating the writing. Sarz strips the production back slightly, allowing airy pads and restrained drums to carry the record. It is one of the moments where the EP feels most intimate. BNXN’s strength has always been his ability to make emotional songs feel effortless instead of overly dramatic, and that quality quietly drives this track. Then comes “Emotional High”, arguably the emotional core of the project. The production is hypnotic — layered synth textures, soft bass pockets, and subtle rhythmic shifts create a floating sensation that mirrors the instability the lyrics describe. BNXN leans fully into emotional vulnerability here, singing about desire, attachment, and the confusion that comes with both. His vocal performance is particularly strong on this record because he over-sings. The closing track “Frank Sinatra” expands the project’s cinematic edge. The title alone suggests luxury and composure, and the song carries that energy throughout. Sarz experiments more boldly here, introducing moody textures and dramatic pauses that make the song feel larger than its runtime. BNXN responds with a performance that is confident, stylish, and emotionally guarded all at once. It is the type of closer that leaves the EP hanging in the air rather than fully resolving it.

What makes ‘The Game Needs Us’ work is restraint. At just five tracks and roughly fifteen minutes long, the EP avoids the excess that often weakens collaborative projects. More importantly, the EP reinforces how valuable Sarz remains to modern African music. His production continues to evolve without losing identity, and BNXN sounds especially comfortable inside that world. Together, they understand how to make emotionally intelligent Afropop that still feels rhythmically alive. It is concise, confident, and deeply aware of what both artists do best.

Johnny Drille — Before The Morning Light

Johnny Drille’s “Before The Morning Light” is a soul-stirring, star-studded ode to love, healing, and dawn after darkness. Five years after ‘Before We Fall Asleep’, the Mavin Records singer-songwriter drops his sophomore album ‘Before The Morning Light’—a 14-track journey of vulnerability, romance, hope, and emotional depth that feels like the musical equivalent of watching the sun rise after the longest night. Clocking in as a rich, introspective body of work, the album blends Johnny’s signature folk-alternative soul with subtle Afropop grooves, live instrumentation, and heartfelt collaborations. Produced largely by Johnny Drille’s hands-on touch, it features heavyweights like Angélique Kidjo, Ayra Starr, Young Jonn, Tiwa Savage, Fireboy DML, Lojay, Nonso Amadi, Jerub, Aqyila, and more.

Across the project, he leans heavily into the emotional storytelling and soft sonic textures that first defined his appeal, but this time with a clearer sense of maturity. There is less urgency to prove himself as an alternative act within Afropop. Instead, the album sounds like an artist finally settled into his identity, making music that prioritizes feeling over spectacle. The title itself evokes patience, faith, and renewal—“before the morning light” as that liminal space of waiting, hurting, loving, and eventually healing. The production is warm and spacious, letting his buttery, emotive vocals breathe while weaving in acoustic guitars, gentle percussion, weeping strings, and soulful keys.

Sonically, Before The Morning Light exists somewhere between folk, soul, R&B, highlife, and acoustic pop. The production is warm and deeply human. Guitars remain central to the album’s emotional architecture, but they are layered with delicate percussion, airy harmonies, restrained piano arrangements, and subtle Afrobeats influences that stop the project from drifting too far into softness. “Colorado” (ft. Ayra Starr & Young Jonn): The pre-release single that set the tone. A smooth, mid-tempo groove with reflective lyrics about love that hits like elevation (“high like Colorado”). Johnny questions sufficiency in the relationship, Ayra Starr adds her signature vulnerability and flair, and Young Jonn brings melodic bounce. Gentle guitars and emotional delivery make it instantly addictive. “Over The Moon” (ft. Tiwa Savage) is buoyant and celebratory. This one captures that euphoric, head-over-heels love high—Johnny Drille and Tiwa Savage trading smooth verses and harmonies over uplifting production. Pure feel-good soul. “Blown Away” is a heartstring-puller with weeping strings. Johnny Drille sings of being utterly captivated beyond the physical—“Something about you, I’m blown away every day.” It’s the kind of vulnerable ballad that defines his appeal. Other highlights include “I’m Available”, “Last Forever”, “Angelina”, “Chokehold”, and “Waste Your Time”—each layering intimacy with groove. Tracks with Fireboy, Lojay, and Nonso Amadi likely lean into chemistry and groove, expanding the sonic palette while staying true to Johnny’s emotional core.

Lyrically, Johnny Drille remains one of the strongest emotional writers in Nigerian music because of how ordinary his language feels. He does not rely on overly poetic abstractions to communicate vulnerability. Instead, he writes like someone documenting real conversations, private fears, and moments of affection exactly as they happen. That simplicity gives the album emotional weight.

The title itself — ‘Before The Morning Light’ — becomes a thematic anchor throughout the record. Much of the album lives in emotional darkness: loneliness, longing, uncertainty, emotional exhaustion, and romantic reflection. But there is always a quiet optimism underneath it all, as though Johnny is searching for emotional clarity before sunrise fully arrives. 

“Before The Morning Light” cements Johnny Drille as one of Nigeria’s most complete artists—the “King of Feels” delivering a zero-skip sophomore album that balances introspection with accessibility.

Tml Vibez, Victony — Hello

There is a certain emotional instinct that has quietly defined Tml Vibez since his emergence under the Dapper Music system. Even when his records lean street-pop or melody-driven, there is usually a softness hidden beneath the delivery—a sense that he is trying to communicate affection, uncertainty, or emotional need through rhythm. On “Hello”, that instinct becomes the centre of the record, and bringing Victony into the mix only deepens its emotional texture.

Built on smooth percussion, dreamy synth layers, and a slow-burning Afropop bounce, “Hello” feels intentionally weightless. The production creates enough space for both artists to glide through melodies without forcing dramatic vocal performances. The instrumental thrives on atmosphere more than complexity. Soft keys drift around the drums, while the bassline remains understated, allowing the emotional tone of the song to stay light and intimate.

Lyrically, the track revolves around romantic longing and emotional availability, but what makes it work is how conversational both artists sound. There is no attempt to overcomplicate the writing with unnecessary metaphors or excessive bravado. “Hello” feels like two people trying to reconnect emotionally, using music as the language for vulnerability. TML Vibez brings the gritty charm and hunger; Victony adds the melodic sheen, and together they cook a record that feels effortless and premium. 

Tml Vibez approaches the song with a calm sincerity that fits the production well. His melodies carry a gentle ache, especially in the way he stretches certain phrases to emphasize emotional hesitation. He understands how to make simple lines feel emotionally loaded without oversinging them. There is also noticeable improvement in his vocal control here. He sounds more settled inside the instrumental, more aware of how silence and restraint can strengthen a performance.

Victony’s appearance shifts the emotional energy slightly. As always, he arrives with melodic precision and a natural sense of fluidity that instantly sharpens the record’s atmosphere. But beyond the technical smoothness, Victony’s strength on “Hello” lies in how emotionally relaxed he sounds. He slips into its emotional world effortlessly, adding texture rather than distraction.

Their chemistry works because both artists understand emotional Afropop from similar angles. Neither performer relies heavily on aggressive vocal moments or oversized hooks. They trust melody enough to carry the record, and that trust gives “Hello” its replay value. 

For Tml Vibez, the record feels like another step towards artistic refinement. For Victony, it is yet another reminder of how effortlessly he can elevate emotionally driven music without disrupting its balance. Together, they deliver a record that feels warm, fluid, and emotionally present from start to finish.

Didi B — RABA

Didi B, the Ivorian rap rockstar pushing Francophone sounds toward Anglophone markets, teams up with Young Jonn, one of Afrobeats’ most reliable melodic weapons. The chemistry between both artists, who know how to make money talk and bodies move, shines especially on “Raba”. “Raba” translates roughly to money. It’s a flex anthem wrapped in celebration, hustle validation, and dancefloor invitation. On paper, “Raba” already sounds like a collision of two very different musical energies. Didi B arrives from the Francophone rap world with sharp delivery, swagger, and a rhythmic aggressiveness rooted in coupé-décalé and trap influences, while Young Jonn thrives in sleek Afropop melodies built for emotional ease. But instead of clashing, both artists find a surprisingly natural balance on this record, creating a song that feels continental in the best way possible.

Produced by Swankii, the beat is bouncy percussion, shimmering synths, and a mid-tempo groove that sits perfectly between street rap energy and radio-ready melodies. It’s not overly cluttered; there’s breathing room for the flows while the log drums and claps keep it moving. Young Jonn’s melodic touch adds that signature smoothness, while Didi B rides the rhythm with rap precision and charisma. The record feels intentionally global while remaining deeply African. The percussion patterns carry strong West African dance influences, but the mix and sonic polish feel built for wider club circulation. The engineering is especially impressive because the song never loses clarity despite its density. Every vocal pocket remains clean, and the instrumental maintains movement without suffocating the performances.

The song’s title and overall mood lean heavily into flirtation, pleasure, confidence, and sensuality. “Raba” is not trying to be emotionally profound, but it succeeds because both artists fully commit to the record’s playful atmosphere. There is charisma in the writing. Even the repetitive phrases feel intentional because they feed directly into the song’s hypnotic bounce.

Didi B controls much of the record’s momentum. His delivery is sharp, stylish, and rhythmically disciplined. He attacks the beat with the confidence of someone fully aware of his star presence, switching flows fluidly while maintaining enough melodic flexibility to keep the song accessible beyond rap audiences. What stands out most is how naturally he moves across the production. Even listeners unfamiliar with Francophone African rap can immediately connect with the energy he brings. Young Jonn enters the record like a release valve. Where Didi B brings intensity, Young Jonn introduces smoothness. His melodic instincts immediately soften the track’s edges without reducing its energy. He slides into the instrumental effortlessly, delivering catchy phrases with the kind of relaxed confidence that has made him one of the most dependable hitmakers in contemporary Afropop.

Didi B and Young Jonn deliver a record built for movement, nightlife, and repeat listens, but underneath the dancefloor appeal is a collaboration that quietly highlights how interconnected African pop music continues to become.

Kunmie’s — Confession

Kunmie’s “Confession” is a raw, soul-baring afro-soul gem that cuts straight to the heart. “Confession”, released today via CiDAR Africa / AltMusic HQ under ONErpm is a deeply personal, emotionally charged single from the Lagos-based Afro-soul singer-songwriter, continuing his streak of vulnerable, love-centred storytelling that made “Arike”, “Solace”, and “Julie” resonate so strongly.

Kunmie has built a reputation as one of the most intentional new voices in Afrobeats/Afro-R&B—blending smooth melodies, Yoruba-infused phrasing, and raw honesty about love, regret, and healing. “Confession”, late-night introspection wrapped in warm production, is perfect for headphones and reflective playlists.

Co-produced with contributions from Firefly, Shorae, Fade Venom, and Puffy, the beat is classic Kunmie territory—intimate and spacious. Soft acoustic elements, gentle percussion, shimmering keys, and subtle Afro-soul grooves create a lush yet minimalist backdrop that lets his voice take center stage. It builds gradually with cinematic swells, evoking that “dawn after darkness” mood. The arrangement prioritizes atmosphere: echoing ad-libs, delicate harmonies, and breathing room that make every emotional peak land harder.

True to the title, “Confession” is Kunmie laying it all bare—imperfections, past mistakes, lingering feelings, and the weight of unspoken truths in love. His songwriting shines with poetic relatability: raw admissions wrapped in tender delivery, mixing English and Yoruba for cultural depth and intimacy. The song’s strongest moments arrive when Kunmie leans into emotional contradictions. That tension gives the track depth beyond simple heartbreak writing. Rather than presenting himself as emotionally in control, he allows uncertainty to shape the record’s identity.

Compared to some of his earlier material, “Confession” feels more intentional in how the melodies evolve. The hooks are subtle but memorable, designed less for instant viral replay and more for emotional resonance over time. It is the kind of song that becomes stronger with repeated listens because of how naturally the melodies settle into memory. With Kunmie on “Confession”, the mood is stripped back to something more exposed, almost uncomfortable in its honesty. The record doesn’t reach for grandeur; it leans instead into stillness, letting emotion sit in its rawest form without distraction. There’s a quiet heaviness in the way it unfolds — like words being said for the first time after sitting too long in the chest — carried by minimal production that gives every lyric space to breathe. Rather than perform vulnerability, Kunmie sits inside it, allowing the song to feel less like a polished statement and more like a moment you’ve accidentally been allowed to overhear.

LISTEN TO THE FULL NEW MUSIC FRIDAY PLAYLIST BELOW:

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In an era where Afrobeats continues to move at breakneck speed — optimized for virality, dance trends, and rapid-fire releases — Johnny Drille has spent the last few years doing the exact opposite. He slowed down. He disappeared into fatherhood, intimate songwriting, live sessions, collaborative records, and emotionally detailed music that prioritized feeling over frenzy. The result is an album that sounds deliberately patient in a musical climate that rarely rewards patience.

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The rollout itself mirrored the softness that has become synonymous with Johnny Drille’s artistry. Rather than a grand spectacle, the singer announced the album through a touching family moment featuring his daughter, Amaris. The now-viral reveal video instantly resonated online because it felt human. Confetti, laughter, warmth, and fatherhood became part of the album’s emotional architecture before it even arrived streaming platforms.

“My new album Before The Morning Light will be yours tomorrow,” Johnny Drille said in a pre-release message. “I’ve made it with all the love in my heart and can’t wait for you to feel it.” That line alone captures the emotional thesis of the project. This is not music chasing the loudest room. It is music trying to reach someone quietly.

Sonically, ‘Before The Morning Light’ continues Johnny Drille’s long-running relationship with acoustic textures, folk-inspired songwriting, and soul-inflected Afrobeats. Early descriptions surrounding the project frame it as reflective, intimate, and emotionally warm — a body of work more interested in atmosphere and storytelling than club-ready excess.

Even with its gentleness, the album’s feature list reveals an ambitious and carefully curated balance between intimacy and reach. Ayra Starr and Young Jonn appear on the lead single “Colorado”, while Fireboy DML joins him on “Angelina” and Tiwa Savage features on “Over The Moon”. The project also reaches beyond Nigeria with the inclusion of legendary Beninese icon Angélique Kidjo — a collaboration that subtly signals the broader global conversations Drille’s music is increasingly capable of entering.

Additional appearances from Lojay, Nonso Amadi, Aquila, and Jerub further deepen the project’s emotional and sonic palette. Tracks like “I’m Available”, “Last Forever”, and “Colorado” suggest an album preoccupied with love, reassurance, emotional distance, healing, and vulnerability — themes Johnny Drille has consistently handled with unusual sincerity.

The timing of the album also feels significant. Afrobeats is currently in a phase where audiences across the world increasingly crave emotional depth alongside rhythm and spectacle. Artists are beginning to lean back into vulnerability, introspection, and fuller storytelling. Johnny Drille has always occupied that lane naturally, but ‘Before The Morning Light’ arrives at a moment where the wider industry finally seems more willing to slow down and listen.

There is also something quietly rebellious about the project’s existence. In a streaming economy that rewards constant output and algorithmic visibility, Johnny Drille chose to disappear long enough to make something intentional. The five-year gap between albums was an accumulation. Life happened. Marriage happened. Fatherhood happened. Growth happened. And all of it appears to have found its way into the emotional DNA of this album.

For long-time listeners, ‘Before The Morning Light’ feels like a continuation of the emotional world introduced on ‘Before We Fall Asleep‘, but with greater clarity, maturity, and emotional confidence.

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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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Your videos feel very rooted in culture, movement, and real-life energy. What originally pulled you into directing, and what made visual storytelling feel like your lane creatively?

KEMZ: I’ve always been a visual artist in one way or another. Growing up, I used to draw and paint a lot, and over time that naturally evolved into graphic design. From there, I got into making videos and eventually realised this was something I could actually do professionally.

I think visual storytelling felt natural to me because I’ve always connected more through visuals and emotion than anything else. Even before directing, I was already thinking in pictures, colours, moods, and moments.

Another important part of my journey was the support system around me. My parents really encouraged my artistic side, so I had the freedom to grow creatively without feeling restricted. That space helped me experiment, improve, and eventually find my voice as a director.

A lot of people see the final music video, but not the thinking behind it. When you approach a new project, what’s usually the first thing you focus on emotion, world-building, performance, colour, pacing, or something else entirely?

KEMZ: My approach to directing is very purpose-driven. The first thing I usually think about is what the project is supposed to achieve and the kind of impact it should have on people. That becomes the foundation for every creative decision after that.

So if it’s a music video meant to sell a certain energy or lifestyle, I build around that feeling. If it’s about helping rebrand an artist or present them differently, then I pay close attention to the elements that support that direction: performance, styling, colour, pacing, environment, everything.

I don’t really approach every project with one fixed formula. My process changes depending on the goal of the project. Once I understand the purpose clearly, the creative world starts building itself naturally from there.

Your work often carries a certain intensity and lived-in realism. How much of your directing style comes from personal experiences, environments, or the kinds of stories you grew up around?

KEMZ: I strongly believe I’m a product of everything I’ve experienced throughout my life, from childhood up until now. A lot of my directing style comes from the environments I grew up in, the people around me, and being deeply connected to Nigerian culture.

Growing up, I was constantly feeding my mind with art, music, films, entertainment, and visuals through TV and the internet. All of those things shaped the way I see emotion, movement, energy, and storytelling today.

I think my work carries a certain realism because it comes from things that feel familiar to me. The stories, the atmosphere, the characters, even the way people move or express themselves; a lot of it is inspired by real life experiences and observations. In many ways, my work is a reflection of everything I’ve absorbed creatively and personally over the years.

You’ve worked across music videos and commercials with major artists and brands. How do you balance creating visually striking work while still making sure each project feels authentic to the artist or story?

KEMZ: I think the balance comes from being very intentional with every project. I always look for the X factor, that one thing that gives the work its own identity and makes it stand out naturally.

I don’t like approaching projects passively because that’s usually how creative work starts to feel repetitive. So with every music video or commercial, I try to find a unique angle, mood, visual idea, or creative detail that makes the project feel special on its own.

At the same time, I still make sure the work stays true to the artist, brand, or story.

You’re now expanding into narrative film with JAPA. What has been the biggest creative shift moving from music video directing into filmmaking, and what kinds of stories are you hoping to tell through film going forward?

KEMZ: The biggest creative shift for me moving into film has honestly been patience. Film requires a much deeper level of patience from the very beginning; from developing the idea and script to working with actors on set and shaping performances carefully.

With music videos, a lot of storytelling is driven by energy, visuals, rhythm, and moments. But film pushes you to pay closer attention to emotions, dialogue, character development, and the small details that carry the story forward.

It’s made me become even more intentional as a storyteller. In film, you can’t rely on just beautiful visuals alone. The emotions have to feel real, the performances have to connect, and every scene has to serve the story properly.

That’s probably been the biggest adjustment for me, understanding that filmmaking demands a different level of patience and precision, but it’s also helped me grow creatively in a deeper way.

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The 24-year-old Kumasi-born rapper and singer walked away with five major trophies, including the coveted Artiste of the Year (his second win, making him the youngest two-time recipient) and Album/EP of the Year for his project Iron Boy. His victories in Hip-Hop Song, Afropop Song, and Songwriter of the Year underscored a breakout year fueled by massive streaming numbers and emotional depth that resonates across generations. Medikal wasn’t far behind, snatching four awards including Most Popular Song and Best Hiplife/Hip-Hop Artiste, while veterans like Stonebwoy (10th Reggae/Dancehall crown) and Kofi Kinaata kept their legacies intact. Newcomer Kojo Blak’s Best New Artiste win signaled fresh blood injecting energy into Afrobeats, and Daddy Lumba’s Lifetime Achievement Award brought the house down with well-earned reverence.

What made TGMA 2026 special was the celebration of Ghana’s sonic identity in a global context. International collaborations shone brightly, and genre-blending tracks like MOLIY’s “Shake It To The Max” remix highlighted how Ghanaian artists are exporting culture while importing influences. The night reaffirmed TGMA’s role as the ultimate barometer of the industry: not just about streams or hype, but about impact, artistry, and community.

Full List of Winners – 27th Telecel Ghana Music Awards (TGMA 2026)

Major Awards

• Artiste of the Year: Black Sherif
• Album/EP of the Year: Iron Boy – Black Sherif
• Record of the Year: “Enso Nyame Y3” – Kwabena Kwabena
• Songwriter of the Year: “Sacrifice” – Black Sherif
• Most Popular Song of the Year: “Shoulder” – Medikal ft. Shatta Wale & Beeztrap KOTM
• Best New Artiste: Kojo Blak
• Lifetime Achievement Award: Daddy Lumba
• Music for Good: “Crox it Out (Breast Cancer)” – Lali x Lola
• Best Group: Keche

Genre & Performance Categories

• Hiplife Song of the Year: “Shoulder” – Medikal ft. Shatta Wale & Beeztrap KOTM
• Highlife Song of the Year: “It Is Finished” – Kofi Kinaata
• Hip-Hop Song of the Year: “Where Dem Boys” – Black Sherif
• Afropop Song of the Year: “Sacrifice” – Black Sherif
• Afrobeats Song of the Year: “Excellent” – Kojo Blak ft. Kelvyn Boy
• Reggae/Dancehall Song of the Year: “Shake It To The Max (Remix)” – MOLIY, Shenseea, Skillibeng & Silent Addy
• Best African Song: “With You” – Davido ft. Omah Lay
• Best Collaboration of the Year: “Shoulder” – Medikal ft. Shatta Wale & Beeztrap KOTM
• Best International Collaboration of the Year: “Shake It To The Max (Remix)” – MOLIY, Shenseea, Skillibeng & Silent Addy

Artiste & Vocal Categories

• Best Hiplife/Hip-Hop Artiste: Medikal
• Best Highlife Artiste: Kofi Kinaata
• Best Afrobeats/Afropop Artiste: Wendy Shay
• Best Reggae/Dancehall Artiste: Stonebwoy
• Best Gospel Artiste: Diana Hamilton
• Best Male Vocal Performance: “Akoma” – Asiama
• Best Female Vocal Performance: “Amin” – Enam
• Best Rap Performance: “Mensei Da” – Strongman

Technical & Other Categories

• Producer of the Year: A’town (for “Shoulder”)
• Audio Engineer of the Year: Daniel Grüll (for “Enso Nyame Y3”)
• Best Music Video: “Put Am on God” – AratheJay (directed by David Duncan)
• Best Traditional Gospel Song: “Nyame Ye” – Piesie Esther
• Best Urban/Contemporary Gospel Song: “Big God Afro” – Kofi Owusu Peprah

In an era of algorithm-driven virality, TGMA rewarded substance: vulnerable lyrics, cultural pride, and cross-generational appeal. Medikal’s street energy, Kofi Kinaata’s highlife revival, and rising stars like Kojo Blak and MOLIY prove Ghanaian music refuses to be boxed in. As the dust settles on another unforgettable night, the future of Ghana’s sound is brighter, bolder, and more globally relevant than ever. TGMA 2026 was a victory lap for an industry that continues to define African music on its own terms.

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