Since first making waves in 2011, Nigerian singer, rapper, and YBNL label head Olamide has released 10 albums, numerous hits, and shepherded the careers of chart-toppers such as Asake, Young Jonn, Fireboy DML, and Lil Kesh. He hasn’t restricted himself to Afropop, fùjí, rap, or R&B; he has been an Afropop innovator, with a voice which he variously modulates across genres, a knack for indelible hooks that reflects his fùjí music heritage, and a non-hierarchical collaborative spirit. Now, with his 11th album, 2025’s self-titled *Olamidé*—which means “wealth” in Yoruba—the artist turns inward without being indulgent, the focus never straying from the songmaking even when the source of some songs is personal and private. “I name things how I feel them,” he tells Apple Music. “I wanted to create more mellow sounds for listeners who prefer laid‐back tracks over heavy drums. Knowing there’s fans who love that keeps me motivated to perfect each record.” With the clear direction in mind, Olamide sat with a coterie of trusted producers to more closely align his feelings and intentions with the final output, though happenstance played a part: “On 99 percent of the songs, I sat in the studio with my producers, explained my ideas and the fan reaction I wanted, then we built the sound. Three tracks, ‘Billionaires Club,’ ‘Duro,’ and ‘Luvaluvah,’ came from P.Priime without any conversation—he just delivered smart beats,” asserts Olamide. His goal for the listening experience was clear: “From the jump, the idea was to make a body of work that aligns with my craftsmanship and sonically breaks the norms. I wanted the album to feel like entering a jazz bar; an immersive experience where everything tightens up together, not a rollercoaster of random highs and lows.” The result is a suite of songs which avoid maudlin introspection and showy rapping, as though he has no more points to prove, striking a balance between confident songcraft and a lifelong habit for listening and experimentation. “Growing up, I absorbed everything. I eat, breathe, and sleep music,” he recalls. “\[Most\] of the time I’m online, discovering new sounds and genres. I rarely relisten to my own tracks, except during mixing and mastering. Life is a teacher, and as long as you stay open‑minded, you realize there’s always more to learn.” Below, Olamide talks through key songs on the album. **“Prelude” (feat. Fxrtune)** “So Fxrtune is someone you all have to watch out for. He’s going to be the next big thing. By the way, that’s my brother.” **“Hasibunallah”** “At the end of the day Arabic is just a language, you know? I grew up in a Muslim family, and Muslims obviously speak Arabic, but I’ve met a couple of Christian friends also who are from the Middle East, that speak Arabic as well. So it’s just a language. ‘Hasibunallah’ is strictly talking about the journey so far, and how much God has been there for me, and holding me down and helping me actualize my dreams and everything. And I clear whoever is in doubt or whoever cares to know that I’m still with my God, and I’m still not bothered by nothing, and I’m still always going to remain successful no matter what.” **“Kai!” (with Wizkid)** “Why do I rate Wiz? To be honest, I think it’s his approach to everything—from his vocals to his writing to his approach to life and everything. He’s just an all-rounder. He’s got his stuff together, everything on point. And it’s very rare to come across people like that, that’s 1000 percent certain about what they want in life and how they want to be perceived and how they want to roll, how they want to deliver their stuff, how they want people to feel when they hear their stuff and all that. That’s very rare.” **“Luvaluvah”** “We had some pushback from clearing a Lauryn Hill sample, but that was not an issue, because I totally understand it. So we came up with something else entirely to replace that \[a sample of Hill’s 1998 track, ‘Can’t Take My Eyes off of You (I Love You Baby)’\] and it’s sounding very good. I’ve been a big fan since forever and her music’s had so much impact in my life. Every time I listen to Lauryn’s music, it feels like a slice of heaven to me. And whenever I’m down or want solace and I need something to just keep me going, I listen to Lauryn. So I am just so much of a fan and I didn’t even know when I ended up sampling her, because I’ve always been so into Lauryn Hill, so into her music.” **“Billionaires Club” (feat. Wizkid, Darkoo)** “Myself and Wiz, we agreed from the jump that we should try to get a third person on the record. And I reached out to a couple of people, but Darkoo came through with that verse. I’ve listened to her over and over, and I’ve realized that she’s got some finesse. It’s one thing to love making music, then it’s another thing to have a finesse to it. Darkoo’s got some finesse to it. She can easily write on anything.” **“Duro”** “An inspiration for this song was fùjí music which often feels like a musical diary: no single hook, just hooks everywhere. Each four‐line section could be someone else’s chorus. It’s simple, relatable, and even if you don’t understand every word, you feel the vibe.” **“Indika” (feat. Dr. Dre, SPINALL)** “For me, making a song with Dr. Dre goes way beyond a stamp. This whole Afrobeats-to-the-world thing, if you’d asked us 15 or 20 years ago, none of us thought it’d be like this. Growing up watching mandem on MTV Base, then making music with them is madness. I never thought a day like this would come. It’s too crazy to put everything together now. Absurd. I have SPINALL to thank for the introduction.” **“1 Shot”** “I was a musician before I was a rapper, but rap gave me my platform. I respect rap and believe finesse is key.” **“99” (feat. Daecolm) (with Seyi Vibez, Asake, Young Jonn)** “While recording the album, Young Jonn came by my camp and played me a record. He wasn’t feeling it yet, so I asked if I could take it. I added my verse, then recruited Asake, Seyi Vibez, and Daecolm, keeping everyone in the loop so it never felt competitive. Asake sent his verse the next day; Seyi Vibez sent his after I explained the direction; Daecolm recorded immediately. Given Daecolm’s house music credentials, he was perfect for the vibe. The phrase ‘party like ’99’ is just a nostalgic vibe. None of us were really partying like that then, but it’s a feeling everyone connects with.” **“Ruba”** “If people think it’s a love song, it is and that was the intention. I don’t shy away from making love songs. I’m only human. I wanted to create something lovable that resonates with female fans and shows my vulnerable side: that I can fall in love and go the extra mile. It comes from practice and experience.” **“Rain” (feat. Popcaan)** “Growing up, rain was something my friends and I adored. We’d dance and play under it, and it felt beautiful. That changed when I visited a friend whose house would flood whenever it rained. Their roof leaked and their bed floated. I didn’t realize rain’s darker side until then. Now it’s bittersweet: It can calm you, ease your pain, but it can also bring hardship to others. That duality inspired the theme of ‘Rain.’ I featured Popcaan to lean into the track’s reggae-tinged sonics. The record itself was also inspired by a Bob Marley and Lauryn Hill collaboration I heard years ago \[1999’s ‘Turn Your Lights Down Low’\]. Its mood and message shaped my own vision for this song.” **“Paris” (feat. Fadi)** “I flew to Paris for fittings and meetings, then Ibiza to turn up, and Miami too. That mix of locations is like fùjí music’s diary style, touching on different experiences. ‘Paris’ captures a week of fittings, meetings, and parties; just me sharing my journey.” **“Lalakipo”** “‘Lalakipo’ is Yoruba slang. If your ex isn’t active or solid, he’s a ‘lalakipo.’ I wanted an unexpected hook, not the usual bounce. The beat sounded like a banger, so I crafted something unusual to match.” **“Stronger” (feat. Boj)** “‘Stronger’ celebrates independent women chasing dreams and living their best lives. It’s my way of saying, ‘Go girl, do your thing.’”
Alexander Eli Morand comes by his nom de rap—Smiley—honestly. Even when the Drake-approved Toronto MC is popping off about street struggles and girl trouble over atmospheric OVO beats, he exudes an excitable energy and tongue-in-cheek attitude that turns frowns upside down. The quick-hit mixtape *Don’t Box Me In* functions as a status update on how Smiley’s life has changed ever since his Drizzy collab “Over the Top” blew up in 2021, and whether he’s reaffirming his loyalty to his Pelham Park homies on “Budge” (“This for all the dogs/I’ll never do a Michael Vick”) or fending off gold-digging girlfriends on “6ixSideKids” (“All you do is talk, bitch/Go start a podcast”), Smiley filters his self-aggrandizing bravado through a sly sense of humor. But true to its title, *Don’t Box Me In* exemplifies Smiley’s desire to break free of both geographic and musical boundaries: On “Spill the Tea,” he bids his hometown adieu to pursue his world-conquering ambitions while floating off into the sunset on a dreamy Sean Leon/River Tiber sample.
After a childhood spent living across Europe, British Nigerian singer Odeal moved back to London in 2017, putting a stop to a phase of his life that had been largely defined by moving between countries and experiencing life’s joys and fluctuations from several locales. “I think what makes my music special is where the inspiration comes from,” Odeal tells Apple Music. “That shift—from being constantly exposed to the world to being limited—shaped the way I saw things and the way I made music.” Yet putting roots back down in London didn’t dull his sense of wonder and craft. Since 2017’s *New Time*, the singer has been making music that pays homage to the sweeping confessions and lilting melodic underpinning of neo-R&B influences within Afropop. In characteristic Odeal fashion, *The Summer That Saved Me contends with the dynamics of modern romance, adding an unavoidable sense of cosmopolitanism to the mix. The aptly titled “London Summers” affectionately references the communal nature of his home’s warmer months. It all works in service of an intention to celebrate a recently renewed zest for life: “This summer was the first time I really had the freedom to move how I wanted—to go wherever, connect with different versions of myself, and just live,” he says. “This is a project about what it feels like to finally have that access to explore, to feel, and to be free, and every song on it is an extension of that energy.” Below, Odeal walks us through The Summer That Saved Me, track by track. “Miami” (feat. Leon Thomas) “‘Miami’ captures the beginning and the end of a certain moment in summer. It’s about someone I met out there \[on my travels\]. The first half of the song describes the moment we met: that infatuation and that spark. But the other half reflects what they gave to me: their presence and their honesty. It’s like they became my therapist without even knowing it.” “London Summers” “Summer in London brings out the best in people. There’s this collective mood shift. You see smiles, music in the air, parks packed, and a kind of joy that feels rare and real. This project has the feel of a summer spent around the world, but this track brings it home. It highlights London and how the city lights up when the sun comes out.” “My Heart” “While ‘London Summers’ and ‘Miami’ take a broader, more cinematic approach, capturing locations, energy, and movement, this song narrows the focus down to a single scene. It’s intimate, emotional, and raw. It’s that intense attraction, that heart-pulling moment where logic goes out the window. You’re just letting your heart take control because it still remembers.” “Obi’s Interlude” “This is the most vulnerable point in the project. Obi is what my mum calls me, and in Igbo, it means ‘heart.’ This track is me speaking from that place. No mask, no performance. Just me. It’s a moment where I’m trying to love with my full chest, trying to reach someone who’s been hurt, who’s scared, who keeps pulling away. There’s something painful about offering something real and still not being let in. Like there’s something deeper trying to stop two people from connecting.” “Monster Boys” “‘Monster Boys’ taps into that playful, confident energy. The delivery is light but intentional, and it brings that nostalgic energy of those older Odeal records into the present. It comes right after ‘Obi’s Interlude,’ which is heavy and vulnerable, so this track lifts the mood entirely, but it’s still part of the same journey. The chase isn’t just emotional; there’s also that sweet, exciting side when things start to feel like they could work.” “Patience” “It’s about learning to appreciate someone who’s taking their time—a woman who’s slow and intentional with how she moves. At first, it frustrated me. I wanted things to happen quickly, just to dive in. But over time, I started to understand and admire her patience. She’s careful, she’s grounded, and she’s not rushing into something just because it feels good at the moment. In the chorus, I refer to her as Delilah, drawing from the biblical story. Delilah made Samson change his ways and made him do things he wouldn’t normally do. In the same way, this woman’s patience made me slow down and rethink how I move.“ “In the Chair” “It captures the tension between love and absence, the heartbreak of being far from someone who once felt like home. I’ve been moving, traveling the world, chasing purpose, but in doing so, I lost touch with someone I deeply cared for. This song is me finally owning up to that. I wasn’t present when it mattered most, and maybe that absence made her feel like I didn’t deserve her love. The painful part is that I still need it. I still believe in it.”***
Natanael Cano deserves credit not only for pioneering and popularizing corridos tumbados, but also for using his platform to uplift numerous other young stars well into the 2020s. Yet his diehard fans know the trap aesthetic that often defines or otherwise informs the themes behind his hit songs also carries over to his work outside of música mexicana. On genre-crossed projects like *NataKong* and *Trap Tumbado*, he proved himself a formidable rapper able to contend credibly with the Spanish-language spitters he shares space with on the Latin charts. It is within that same rubric of creative freedom that *Porque La Demora* arises. Cano’s most diverse offering to date, the 16-track effort evolves over the course of its run time, pivoting into spaces both familiar and uncharted for the superstar artist. The opening pair finds him comfortable in two hip-hop modes, the title track more boom-bap than the modernity of “Como Es.” Not content to stay in any specific space here for too long, he briefly transitions toward the tropical with frequent collaborator Gabito Ballesteros on “Perlas Negras.” He next reaches for reggaetón on cuts like “Blancanieves” and “Polos Opuestos,” supplying both verses and hooks in true hit-making fashion. That continues through “Bellakita,” a standout team-up with the rising Victor Mendivil that calls back to that genre’s rugged roots. The album’s second half adds even more features to the mix, with traperos-turned-popular stars Myke Towers and Eladio Carrión coming through for “El Juez” and the comparatively more clubby “Como Tony,” respectively. Chilean sensation FloyyMenor lends his reggaetonero skills to “Mary Poppins” while longtime cohort Badguychapo gets his bars off for “Cholo.” By the time the strobe lights hit on closer “VLV,” one might be forgiven for briefly forgetting Cano’s primary infamy in the corridos space. The closest *Porque La Demora* even gets to that side of his work comes on “Primero Muerto,” a piano-driven ballad that marks the most accessible moment on the entire album. Its narrative of pill-popping numbness and achingly romantic longing places him squarely in the pop zeitgeist, where he assuredly belongs.
The smash hit “Gata Only” put Chilean artist Cris MJ (and his cohort FloyyMenor) on the proverbial map, its viral appeal translating to international success. It makes sense, given that his melodic monotone and pleasure-seeking lyrics jibe so well with the atmospheric reggaetón he seems to prefer. Working mainly, though not exclusively, with his prior go-to producers, like Nes on the Shet and Panda Black, he maintains a consistency both sonically and thematically across the full-length *Apocalipsis*. Unsurprisingly, the songs here tend toward hedonism, not infrequently veering into sexually charged territory that starts on the dance floor and ends in the bedroom. Versatile yet consistent, he’s the consoling suitor for a heartbroken baddie on “Braile,” the adventurous lover with certain proclivities on “Temblar,” and the confident mile-high clubber on “Jet.” Money showers, shopping sprees, and late-night trysts define the world he’s building, track by seductive track. As such, it’s easy to get lost in these strobe-light serenades, his provocations and pleas proving hypnotically alluring on “Vamo a Bailotear” and “Una Flor.” Still, there’s a Weeknd-esque gloom lurking in those slinky shadows, revealed in spots like “7 Trompetas.” Though dembow-derived rhythms drive the bulk of *Apocalipsis*’ contents, he affixes a similarly erotic yet moody vibe to the gothic synth-pop of “Fashion Week” and the booming trap of “El Tiempo Se Pierde.” Neo-disco thump pushes “RocknRoll” into a retrofuturist thrill zone, while “Tercer Cielo” warbles as much as it throbs. Yet no matter where the beat takes him, Cris MJ seems down for whatever the night might bring.
The man who in 2019 knew well enough to declare himself the *African Giant* may not have needed a Mick Jagger collaboration to certify his rock-star bona fides, but with his eighth studio album, *No Sign of Weakness*, that is what Burna Boy saw fit to deliver. “Shout-out to Naomi Campbell,” the Nigerian-born superstar tells Apple Music’s Ebro Darden. “It was literally her idea. She was like, ‘You and Mick Jagger would be so legendary.’ And she pressed about it for so long.” The song is called “Empty Chairs” and is a unique classic-rock/Afrobeats hybrid—just one of a wealth of disparate vibes Burna explores across *No Sign of Weakness*, an album whose title implies a plan for continued dominance while asserting a pronounced lack of fear in his musical practice. “I was trying to make something that I haven’t made before,” Burna says. “In a sense that I’m trying to do the opposite of everything I’ve ever done—in a good way. I just feel like right now, I’m big enough to do it. I’m big enough to enjoy it now and just do everything that I would want to listen to, if it wasn’t me.” But it *is* him who fans the world over have been adding to playlists, requesting in DJ sets, and buying tickets to see season after season since at least 2018’s “Ye” took the Afrobeats world by storm. His practice has expanded with every release since, and on *No Sign of Weakness* we get dalliances with hip-hop (“No Sign of Weakness”), country (“Change Your Mind”), house (“Kabiyesi”), baile funk (“TaTaTa”), lovers rock (“Sweet Love”), and R&B (“Come Gimme”), complemented by linkups with Travis Scott, Stromae, and Shaboozey, an artist Burna actually feels a tribal connection to. “So, here’s the thing: I didn’t know he was actually Nigerian,” Burna says, “Before he came, they would tell me, ‘Hey, you know this guy’s Nigerian, right?’ But when \[people\] say someone is Nigerian, it’s like they probably have one drop of Nigerian blood somewhere. With Shaboozey, his name is Chibueze, and I’m speaking pidgin, and he understands that.” You’d not need to be kin to the singer and MC to understand the Burna Boy lifestyle, specifically in regard to reaping the financial benefits of his genius (“Bundle by Bundle”), his undying love for the ganja leaf (“28 grams”), or even his amusement at making local tabloids (“Dem Dey”). He’s happy to tell you all about it—including how he deals with it all—as he does on album mission statement “No Panic.” “Basically, I’m saying, every day I’ve done all this, but I don’t panic—I won’t panic,” he says. “It’s some shit that they say in the streets in Nigeria as well. It’s like, ‘Dem go whine you, but no panic.’ It means they’ll play with you, but don’t panic.”
