In the global imagination, Nigerian music has become almost synonymous with Afrobeats, a genre whose irresistible rhythms and infectious melodies have fuelled a cultural export boom from Lagos to London and Los Angeles.
But for Lagos-based duo Vil Twin, the familiar syncopations of Afrobeats and the deep, rolling grooves of amapiano are precisely what they seek to transcend.
Their new EP, Twizzy Shh, is not merely a departure from convention; it is a full-throttle challenge to the sonic orthodoxy of contemporary African pop.
Across seven tracks, Twizzy Shh feels less like a collection of songs and more like a manifesto. It opens with the provocatively titled “BURST YOUR SPEAKERS,” a track that does exactly what it promises, a blitz of distorted basslines, fractured vocals, and a trap-inflected energy that owes more to Playboi Carti’s Whole Lotta Red than anything by Burna Boy.
This is music made for the Lagos youth who pair Chrome Hearts with Nike Dunks, who scroll between Yeat and Ken Carson as easily as Wizkid and Davido.
Much of Twizzy Shh’s creative DNA comes from producer DEX TER, whose fingerprints are evident on four of the EP’s tracks: “Exhausted,” “Million Thang,” “Platinum Bitch,” and “Slime.”
Together with Vil Twin, DEX TER builds a soundscape of rolling 808s, spectral synths and heavily treated vocals that seem to bend and liquify across the stereo field. It’s an aesthetic that blurs geography, a sonic meeting point between Lagos, Atlanta and the hazy virtuality of the internet.
Yet, there’s purpose beneath the noise. This is not rebellion for rebellion’s sake. Vil Twin are attempting to carve out a space for Nigerian artists who feel alienated by the Afropop mainstream, artists who are as influenced by trap, hyperpop and cloud rap as they are by Fela Kuti. As they move through the chaotic energy of “BURST YOUR SPEAKERS” and the swagger of “Platinum Bitch,” there is a sense of mission: to assert a new kind of African global sound, one unbound by geography or genre.
The closing track, “Too Easy,” serves as a fitting coda. It feels like an exhale after 20 minutes of compressed adrenaline, calm, assured, and self-possessed. It is Vil Twin’s declaration that this isn’t an experiment but a blueprint.
In the context of Nigerian music, Twizzy Shh may seem disruptive, even alien. But it is precisely this sense of alienation that signals a shift. As the cultural capital of Lagos expands and diversifies, so too does its musical expression. Vil Twin are speaking to a growing demographic of young Nigerians whose identities are hybrid, whose playlists cross continents, and who are restless for something new.
Whether Nigeria is ready for them or not is almost beside the point. For Vil Twin, the future is already here, loud, distorted and defiantly different.
