It’s no news that Afrobeats genre has travelled farther than anyone could have imagined a decade ago. From packed neighbourhood clubs in Lagos to sold-out arenas across Europe and North America, Nigeria can safely claim the genre as one of its most successful cultural exports.
What started as a street-rooted, homegrown sound — shaped by local slang and rhythms, pidgin poetry and distinctly Nigerian storytelling technique — has become a billion-dollar global industry.
This shift did not happen overnight, nor is it purely accidental; it reflects changing ambitions, market pressures and the evolving relationship between culture and commerce.
Today, stars of the genre are gracing elevated platforms, headline global festivals, dominating international charts and collaborating effortlessly with the world’s biggest pop names. As the genre scales new commercial heights, an uneasy question is gaining ground within the industry and among fans: in chasing global markets, are Nigerian superstars slowly losing the identity that made the music powerful in the first place?
It needs to be noted that in its early days, Afrobeats celebrated a vibrant local essence. Iconic artistes such as 2Face Idibia, D’banj, Psquare (now disbanded), Olamide, and Timaya crafted their careers around the rich tapestry of Nigerian life — weaving love narratives in pidgin, delivering social critiques laced with infectious dance beats, and creating anthems that resonated with the everyday struggles of Nigerians. Even as the genre reached global ears, it remained deeply rooted in its origins, embracing its heritage with pride.
With global record deals, international management squads and aspirations that reach beyond borders, production styles now lean heavily towards Western pop, R&B and Caribbean influences.
While these shifts have opened doors to global radio and festival circuits, critics argue that something is being lost along the way.
“The sound is becoming more universal, but also more generic,” says DJ, music producer, television presenter and chief executive officer of Kennis Music, Kenny Keke Ogungbe, well known as Baba Keke, who has worked with both emerging and established acts.
“There’s pressure to sound familiar to international ears. Sometimes that means sanding off the rough, local edges that made the music unique,” he added.
The music executive noted that at the centre of this transformation is money, stressing that global success has redefined what is commercially viable. “Streaming algorithms reward songs that fit neatly into international playlists.
“Similarly, brand endorsements are inclined towards artistes who possess universal appeal. So, it’s no surprise that record labels, particularly those owned by foreign entities, advocate for music that transcends borders effortlessly,” Ogungbe explained.
For artistes, the temptation is understandable. A hit that performs well in Europe or North America can earn more in weeks than years of domestic touring. Consequently, many artistes are beginning to tailor their songwriting and production choices to align with market strategies instead of purely focusing on cultural expression.
This has created a subtle but noticeable divide between “export Afrobeats” and music made primarily for Nigerian audiences. While the former chases universal themes and polished production, the latter often remains grounded in street narratives, local slang and region-specific rhythms.
Nigerian audiences, however, have not been entirely silent. Social media often erupts with debates whenever a major star releases a song perceived as “too foreign.” Fans accuse artistes of abandoning their roots or making music that sounds “American with a Nigerian accent.”
Meanwhile, the same fans celebrate international awards, global chart positions and collaborations with Western stars. This contradiction highlights the complexity of the moment: Nigerians want global recognition, but not at the cost of cultural erasure.
Some artistes have tried to strike a balance. They alternate between globally tailored singles and albums that lean more heavily into local sounds. Others deliberately double down on indigenous influences, betting that authenticity itself can be a global selling point.
Notwithstanding these trends, there is growing resistance within the industry. A new generation of artistes is deliberately foregrounding local languages, confident that authenticity can travel globally without heavy translation. Their success challenges the assumption that global appeal requires linguistic dilution.
International audiences, increasingly curious about African cultures, are proving willing to engage with music they do not fully understand, provided it feels genuine.
This shift suggests that the global market may be more flexible than industry gatekeepers believe.
Though many may argue that Afrobeats is not dying, and neither is it losing its soul overnight. However, it is undeniably at a crossroads. For now, the music continues to play — louder, bigger and more profitable than ever. But beneath the celebration lies an important conversation Nigeria cannot afford to ignore.
