Women Are Providing the Blueprint for a More Exciting Nigerian Music Scene

Entering this year, Solana had made peace with the possibility that this was her last attempt to make a career in music. The Nigerian singer was exhausted by the abyss of listener inattention, despite a catalog of quality singles dating back to 2020, some featuring prominent artists like Joeboy and Victony. This would most likely be her last swing, and that sense of finality is the undercurrent powering “Okunkun,” the recent single that has pushed Solana into breakout territory.

Named after the Yoruba word for darkness, “Okunkun” captures the singer’s unwillingness to be swallowed by the pitch-black void. Its lyrics are a fusion of Yoruba aphorisms, spiritual pleas, and self-motivation. Then there’s the music, a glittering synthwave arrangement that’s easily the most unique sound out of Nigerian pop this year so far. It’s also the most distinct release in Solana’s catalog so far, and it’s a glimpse of a style she’s coined ‘Yorupop,’ a merger of Yoruba folk influence with sounds inspired by retro, electronic pop music.

None of it was planned; the new single and planned subsequent releases are just a result of the music she wanted to make. “When I’m creating music, I don’t consciously try to fit into a particular trend. I just make stuff that is true to me, stuff that is a reflection of what I’m trying to express, and pushing boundaries just comes along,” Solana tells OkayAfrica. The singer has revealed that she played “Okunkun” privately to some industry insiders, eliciting mixed reactions, but went ahead and began teasing the single publicly, and it quickly garnered buzz on social media for its unique catchiness.

The Authenticity of Nigerian Female Artists

In Nigerian music, homogeneity is often encouraged for lesser-known artists trying to break into the mainstream. The logic is that commercial success is best guaranteed by leaning into whatever popular sounds are tested and trusted with the audience at that given moment. Generally, it’s really difficult for upcoming artists, but in a heavily male-dominated terrain, it can be much, much harder for female artists, and that’s part of the reason why they’re less susceptible to the idea that they have to conform to gain widespread attention.

“I don’t consciously create from a place of trying to be mainstream. Ironically, I believe my music is mainstream, so I don’t feel the need to chase it,” singer Rukmani says of her music, which leans into R&B and soulful pop for plush-sounding, emotionally resonant songs. “I’m more interested in how the listener feels when they hear my music. If they can hear a song and make it their own—whether that means feeling what I felt, creating their own story around it, or attaching it to a moment in their lives—then I think my job is done.”

A general observation is that Nigerian female artists exhibit a high degree of thoughtfulness in their music, mainly because there’s an innate understanding that it’s almost impossible to be cookie-cutter and succeed as a woman in Nigerian music. It’s evident in the stylistic diversity of these artists, which is usually a product of their desire to be seen as authentic. For Solana, “being authentic is what brings me peace because that’s just me being myself,” while Rukmani shares that personal experiences have shown that “trying to create from anywhere other than a genuine place never feels right in my body.”

The drive to be authentic is a spiritual lineage shared by generations of Nigerian female artists. Solana’s ‘Yorupop’ phase feels very Lijadu Sisters-coded, Rukmani shares some similarities with siren-voiced 2010s star Waje, you can hear some kinship between Tems’ dedication to her own vision of Nigerian soul music and Asa’s soulful folk leanings, AyraStarr mirrors the ethos of assured and introspective past iconic divas like Onyeka Onwenu and Christy Essien Igbokwe, the silver-tongued flows of rap artist Fimi echoes the swagger of Weird MC, while the pithy experiments of dance music by Bloody Civilian brings to mind the late, great Goldie.

A Popular Sentiment Against Female Artists?

“I think that women in music have to be diverse because they have to work twice as hard as the men, so you have to show more range,” culture writer and filmmaker Okeoghene Vandeh says. “Number one, men don’t listen to your music because they feel like you’re a woman; then you’re now in a male-dominated industry where you have to prove yourself a lot, and you probably have a demography where it’s mostly women listening to you.”

A video recently surfaced online of a man stating point blank that he doesn’t listen to Nigerian female artists. In the video, he’s asked to listen to Ayra Starr’s “Tornado,” which he rates an 8 out of 10, but he’s casual about his unwillingness to listen to female artists, even claiming that they can’t really sing like that. Unsurprisingly, the comment section of the video is packed with dozens of men jovially agreeing and announcing their own stance of not listening to women. It points to a prominent sentiment among a significant portion of Nigeria’s male population.

While Vandeh is upfront about her opinion that men not listening to female artists is “rooted in patriarchy and misogyny,” characteristic of Nigeria’s conservative society, music executive Bella Adeleke is less sweeping and believes the industry's definition of the Nigerian music mainstream needs to be looked at with a more critical eye.

“The mass Nigerian audience has grown comfortable with a particular archetype; a certain sound, a certain style of storytelling and brand narrative,” Adeleke tells OkayAfrica. “If you do not fit that box, visibility becomes a tactical exercise rather than a natural outcome. Audiences respond to what they are consistently offered. And for too long, they have largely been offered one template. So the bias sits with the industry, not the listener. That tells you exactly where the narrowing happens. Widen the range of women being developed and platformed, and the audience will meet you there.”

A Cultural Necessity

Beyond challenging the status quo of holding a few token spaces for women in the mainstream, amidst a sea of men, there’s a need for forward-facing measures that champion listening to and supporting female artists as a cultural necessity. Recently, there have been complaints about the static state of popular Nigerian music, due to an overreliance on slang over lyrical prowess, a continued slant towards amapiano-inspired beats, sometimes with uninspired results, and a general lack of creative risk. These are all concerns that will be phased out if more people listened to more female artists.

On a global scale, female artists are writing the rules of success across popular music genres, a trend that’s yet to catch on properly in Nigeria. For Adeleke, who manages Rukmani, accelerating positive change involves increased investment in more female artists by executives and shotcallers—many of whom are men. It also involves the media and listeners treating women's music careers with the level of care they deserve, prioritizing attention to their art over the sort of irrelevant chatter that dominates news cycles when female artists are the focus.

“What we need is more support, more platforms, and more spaces for discovery that do not require a woman to trade on over-sexualization, uninformed ambiguity, or theatrics as an unspoken pre-requisite to convert attention,” Adeleke tells OkayAfrica. “If the only reliable route to visibility is spectacle, we will keep having the same conversation.”