Like everything else, music is prone to change. What we hear and perceive of African music has changed drastically from eras gone by, but the conditions artists create from haven’t changed much.
Yet caught in the throes of the human condition, music captures the several states of being alive, taking from sound the necessary effects to amplify expression. Afrobeats itself has been in a delicate position recently, as a section of listeners expresses a peculiar weariness within its subject matter and tone. However, the listener sometimes needs to broaden their perspective.
The music created by diasporan Africans outside the continent offers a splendid showcase of music’s ceaseless ability to move. Inspired by the peculiar histories of their background and the soundscape of their resident homes, these artists stretch the palette in a way that not only vivifies our scene but also enriches it.
Particularly in the UK, the US, and France, where generations of Africans have immigrated to, we accrued a fine thread of African-inspired music. With the task of accurate representation bearing positively on these children of sonic travel, these ten songs represent some of African music’s finest moments from the diaspora this year.
Odeal – “My Heart”
A brilliant sense of parallelism shines on this record. Everything echoes each other, from the title to the heart, like the rhythms of the percussion. Odeal has incredible talent for relaying high emotional stakes, but his execution shines with simplicity. “My Heart” comes alive on its own terms, with its lingering strings and sax sections fully worked into the chant-driven singing. “I’m gonna trust with my heart,” he sings on what’s a thematic centerpiece of The Summer That Saved Me, the latest project from the prolific British Nigerian act.
Aya Nakamura – “Chimiyé”
It’s not without good reason that Aya Nakamura has been one of the biggest Francophone artists since the turn of the 2020s. The French-Malian’s music exudes a chic, boisterous confidence, matched by her impressive sense of visual curation. Every second of “Chimiyé” oozes a characteristic aura, a laidback record which revels in the essence of the physical self. Nakamura is basically feeling fly on wax, and you get that feeling, right from her unhurried flow to the serene bounce of the production. She also espouses the tonal fluency that makes French work so well with African sensibilities; such is the seamless quality of the sound that many African acts would have relished a verse on the record.
Kokoroko – “Sweetie”
Named after the Urhobo (a southern Nigerian language) word for “hard to break,” Kokoroko embodies the vision of post-Jazz music. The British-based septet has accrued a broad list of admirers from elite magazines to award shows. With several African members, they’ve kept a delicious subtlety of their roots in the music, infusing contemporary touches to the floating beauty of Jazz’s techniques. Shining with these signature flourishes is “Sweetie,” a disco-influenced record that sounds like a family reunion — it’s a standout from their 2025-released LP, Tuff Times Never Last.
Sam Opoku – “You”
On first listen, there’s little to no African sensibility on this record. But that couldn’t be more wrong; Soul lies parallel with the Black experience, forged into its prime expression by African American immigrants who took all their poetry and pain with them. A master of the form, Sam Opoku makes riveting observations on the personal. Due to his incisive writing, a record like “You” relays an experience of loyalty and devotion many have felt, but wouldn’t (of course) have presented in the immaculate, folksy form we have here.
TOBi & Kojey Radical – “Ego Slide”
Both artists on this record represent a cool, conscious style of rap. Growing up in serene neighborhoods of the US does that to you, but so does having African parents, present with all its anxieties of a multicultural home. In the art of subversion, the music created by such artists tends to have a lightness of being, as does “Ego Slide.” Groovy but not heavily so, the gentle knocking of the bass and percussion gives an after-rain feeling, with all the freshness of such scenes. A simple record, it revels in its simplicity and profound harmony with the natural world.
Chrystel & Timbaland – “TREASURE”
On “TREASURE,” Timbaland collaborates with the US act of Ivorian descent, Chrystel, whose own music interlaps with the vivacious throb of African sound. The result is a sparse production heavily inspired by South African house’s tone, with Chrystel putting up a memorable performance. Little reliant on melody, the taut verses are well delivered, offering a hint as to whether the two artists might continue their collaboration in the future.
Obongjayar – “Sweet Danger”
When Obongjayar described his sound as post-Afro some years back, he’d have half-expected it to burst into several other forms. Yet even with his genius-level experimentation, he’s always stayed close to home in Nigeria, whether it’s through pointed social commentary or sound. Although “Sweet Danger” isn’t the most Afro-leaning song on his latest LP Paradise Now (that would be “Strong Bone”), it’s a riveting affair with echoes of cinematic flair. “You sweet like sugar, let me taste your sugar,” meanwhile, is the most classic highlife thing any musician has ever said since the turn of the 2010s. You don’t think of a particular African musician when hearing this song, but its feeling is very much connected to the continent’s conversational style.
Mannywellz – “Valentine”
After scoring one of 2024’s biggest feel-good hits with “Ouu wee (Brown),” it’s quite inspiring that more people now know Mannywellz. For over seven years, he’s been a worthy bridge representing R&B tastes within African and American audiences. On Mirage (2020), he showed especially an inclination for soft, buttery music and had ascendant Tems and Wale as features. He hasn’t stopped creating music from those impulses as we hear on “Valentine,” imprinting his tender touch on the warm strings of its production. Love will always inspire music, but Mannywellz hums a distinct tune. When he sings about love, he becomes love itself.
James BKS – “Wetin U Go Choose”
The son of Afro-Jazz legend Manu Dibango and protege to actor Idris Elba, there’s surely a strong list of icons behind James BKS. On that presumption, one might assume his music to be lightweight, propelled mostly by acclaim. Play “Wetin U Go Choose” for such a detractor: an existential inquiry pinched into the space of an Afropop record, its lively vocals and drums give grounding to the dreamy rhetoric of its writing. You’d probably bop your head to the song, but upon subsequent listens, the heft of its musicality becomes better perceived, and that revelry fuses with contemplation.
Little Simz – “Lion” feat. Obongjayar
Between themselves, Little Simz and Obongjayar have appeared together on four records. They have obviously come into sonic understanding with each other, flexing that union of perspective with every record. On “Lion,” they go again into the Fela Kuti soundscape, using his Afrobeat drum pattern to create fine portraits of proud Nigerian and Black people. From Simz’s smooth flow to Obongjayar’s spirited singing, it’s an achieved performance from masters who find themselves on familiar ground. A fine depiction of the hip-hop subsection, Fela continues to inspire; it’s brought to even more life by the presence of the OB feature, almost like an invocation of the real man himself.
