The African Artists Making Music Cover Art In The Age of AI

In 1977, Fela Anikulapo Kuti — Nigeria’s renowned musical genius and political activist — alongside Africa 70 released “No Agreement,” a swinging, commercially successful project made as a statement against Nigeria’s corrupt military junta. The album is, in classic Fela fashion, propulsive and full of energy. Strong-heeled about its politics and insistent on delivering strong messages through generationally resonant music. 

Everything about the project, especially its cover art designed by his longtime collaborator Lemi Ghariokwu, is remarkable, and sure-footed about what it wants to say and who it is speaking to. The cover art for No Agreement is, by today’s design standards, relatively simple. It’s a colored drawing of a bare-chested Fela blowing hard on his sax while around him, oval shapes bear manifestos and statements like Freedom, Justice, Black Philosophy, Pan Afrikanism, etc. But it’s also very effective about how it complements the themes of the album.

This isn’t the first cover art from Fela that directly echoes or literally interprets the charged politics of his music. Albums like Original Sufferhead (1981), He Miss Road (1975), and even Gentleman (1973), which notably features a black-and-white image of a monkey in suit-like garb, all use their cover art to complement the themes of his music. 

Fela, like many of the world’s greatest artists, understood the indivisible relationship between music and art. The best musicians are often able to communicate the sensibilities of their music, the visual energy that captures it, and, most importantly, showcase the breadth of their taste.

“An album cover is a dialogue between the artist and the creative. When done well, it brings both people closer, with the designer acting as an interpreter of what the musician is trying to say,” says Niyi Okeowo, a Nigerian designer whose project roster includes Fireboy DML’s Apollo, Show Dem Camp’s Palmwine Music Vol. 2 and Vol. 3, and Wande Coal’s Realms, to name only a few.

All of that is changing in the generative AI age. Many African artists have turned to Generative AI software to create cover art for their music. When Larry Gaaga announced his collaboration with Olamide and Mavo back in May, many called him out for using an AI visualiser and cover art to announce the project. TG Omori, a Nigerian director, was also recently accused of using Artificial Intelligence to create the album art for Flavour’s AfroCulture. With a rise in this pattern, it’s become even more popular to use AI-generated images or visuals with works.

“AI risks removing that dialogue when it's used to replace, rather than support, the creative process by simply generating whatever the artist asks for. Great album covers are shaped by conversations, shared experiences and cultural context. AI can't replace that.”

Musai Gainyy, who has created album art for Show Dem Camp, points out that cover arts are often deemed unnecessary to the music creation process. This is why cover arts usually get a shorter turnaround time than other aspects of the creative process leading to music release. “It's usually more about the sound or beat and not the whole package, so when the music is done, the visual aspect comes last and usually in a rush so generative AI covers come as fast as they want whereas commissioning artists takes some time to perfect or to engage.”

A persisting human touch

West African artists like Okeowo are amongst a breed of artists whose work is still invested in creating music cover art. Okeowo’s process — when working on cover art — begins with listening to the music. “Identifying the themes in the lyrics, along with the emotions the artist is trying to convey.” What follows is a moodboard, and the development of a visual world which includes typography, imagery, illustration, layout and colour.

For Ghanaian photographer and artist Desmond Seyram, who has created cover art for acts like Stonebwoy and A-Town, his process is a little different. “It always starts with talking, not with cameras. Before anything else, I want to understand the artist who they are, what the music is really saying, what emotion they're trying to put across,” he says.

Seyram pulls influences from anywhere from old MTV videos to films and photography he has studied over the years. Seyram understands that although AI is a tool, many artists can choose whether to use it or not; it’s going nowhere. “What can get lost is the human part of it, especially the back-and-forth, the experimenting, the collaboration between the artist and the creative team. Some of the best covers come out of those moments, and you can't just type a prompt and get that. For me, AI should support the process, not replace it.”

Nana Asomani another Ghanaian photographer who has shot cover art for Baaba J - believes human impact will always hold sway. “The human perspective in art can never be diminished as art comes from a place of emotions and being,” he says. “Even in the development of AI arts, it is human inputs that are needed to create it.”

Branching Out

But even as these artists believe in the importance of human-led music cover art, they have also been expanding the ambit of their works. Jesse Uranta, a Nigerian psychedelia-tinged digital artist who has created cover art for Fireboy DML, Tay Iwar, and Nonso Amadi, recently staged his first solo exhibition after expanding his craft into group showings. 

“I had always chased hyperrealism with the human form in my work, and once I achieved that, I realised that I found it unexciting. Which led me to seek out ways to enjoy the process again,” he says. “My work is constantly evolving, and I’m learning to embrace this evolution, seeing where it takes me truly. The most important thing for me when creating is the process of trying and seeing what’s conceivable and possible to bring to life.”

On his part, Okeowo has branched out into different creative mediums, co-founding Get Unruly, a culture magazine, leading creative efforts at Kuda, a Nigerian payments company, and exploring design through film and fashion. And on his part, Asomani produces independent photography projects. 

“We are not at the point of doom and gloom yet, but it is impacting, to some extent, how we visually view contemporary African music. It seems a bit low effort to slap an AI image on a well-crafted song, but I mean business decisions had to be made, so I can understand,” he says. Asomani believes the way out is for more African artists to develop their own distinct visual languages.

“Your visuals are literally your identity. It is the first thing people consume when they encounter your craft so it should leave a lasting impression and not something distasteful.”

Okeowo believes it’s all in the story. “I'd like to see artists become more intentional about the stories they tell, rather than simply chasing aesthetics. A powerful visual language should reflect the world their music comes from, its people, culture, emotions and perspective. The album cover is just one piece of that narrative. When the visuals, typography, photography, motion, merchandise and live experiences all speak the same language, the work becomes far more memorable. That's where I believe the future lies, creating complete creative worlds, rather than simply beautiful images.”