Wizkid is showing off his glistening, many-gemmed diamond necklace, last seen at his acclaimed performance on the Other Stage at Glastonbury last month. “There are different coloured stones from all around the world,” he beams.
The Afrobeats superstar, real name Ayodeji Ibrahim Balogun, is taking a breather backstage at the Tottenham Hotspur Stadium, where his sold-out More Love, Less Ego sold out world tour is scheduled to stop by on July 29.
He’s here for a media day to promote this upcoming gig, and as we settle in he also promotes a new side hustle as he’s showing off the opulent chain which was on full display at Worthy Farm. “This diamond here? It looks like something that could go on the King’s head, right? I am taking it back with my jewellery line, which is coming out soon [working with jeweller Eliantte] I am redesigning wealth and reinventing royalty.”
Historically African diamonds have often been passed over to empires and colonisers. And with this talk of reinventing royalty, I ask if Wizkid agrees with critics that the Star of Africa diamond (which currently resides in the Tower of London) should be returned to its original home? He won’t be drawn on the issue.
“I am not here to sit and judge previous generations,” the 32-year-old says, “but I am here to steer the new generation forward. I want us to make big moves and to spread love. We’re the kings now.”
Eyes hidden behind Gucci sunglasses, he says, “What is in the past is in the past. It is what is in the future that I think most about.” He seems relaxed, despite all of the bodies – publicists, radio presenters, musicians – manically rushing around us.
This singer-songwriter from Lagos, Nigeria has more than earned his right to feel regal. With more than 17.1 million followers on Instagram and 13 million monthly Spotify listeners, as well as collaborations with artists such as Beyonce (Brown Skin Girl), Drake (One Dance), and Dave (System), Wizkid has built a sturdy, major label bridge linking the Lagos sound with some of America and Britain’s most important pop stars.
His laidback melodies on Essence, which also served as a breakthrough moment for Grammy-winning rising star Tems, make the listener feel like they’re dancing in the direct glow of orange sunshine, with popping, bass-driven Jamaican rhythms and a loose Lagos bravado both combining to intoxicating effect. His YouTube videos also rack up staggering numbers, with 2019 single Joro currently at 247 million views.
“My music is therapeutic,” he says. “You close your eyes and play that shit, and you will feel like you are on the beach, inside of a fantasy. Whatever I feel, you feel.” This intoxicating, celebratory atmosphere doesn’t come at the expense of being profound, however. On 2020 single Gyrate, his lyrics – “be together through the fire and the storm” – doubled as his message to ordinary Nigerians struggling to get by.
Yet a big part of the appeal can be found in the way the self-proclaimed “Star Boy” effortlessly brings together big, diverse crowds to dance and raise one another’s body temperatures. This is especially apparent on fan favourites like Mighty Wine and Soco, which both replicate the feeling of two people locking eyes on a dance floor at 1 am. Apparently at early shows things could get so riled up that Wizkid often saw people getting... a bit hot and heavy, shall we say, in the crowd.
Women are also constant theme in these chart-topping songs, with Wizkid leaning into the idea of being a new-age dance hall lothario. On the bouncy No Stress, he immortalised south London women, as well as the way a particularly special woman made his head “burst” during a one night stand.
“That was just the mood I was in at that moment,” Wizkid says, laughing. “I got girls from every part of London, to be honest. Tomorrow night might be a west London girl. Then east London. All women [here] are special.”
He insists his music should first and foremost be seen by critics as something that celebrates women. Raised with 12 sisters by a dad Alhaji Muniru Olatunji Balogun, who was once the chairman of the All Progressives Congress party, and his mother, Jane, Wizkid grew up with strong female company. “I was raised around strong women, so it means I cater more for women with my sound, you know? Being raised by women made me understand their full range of emotions. It is a beautiful thing.”
Does he see himself as a feminist? “Yeah, I guess.” However, just like earlier on, he quickly returns the conversation to safer ground: “I don’t really like to get into complicated things and have views of how people see things. I just stick to what I believe and feel.”
One of Wizkid’s formative influences was the late great Nigerian artist Fela Kuti, the forefather of the current Afrobeats sound and the kind of musician who wanted a pan-African revolution to break out in the middle of a joyous dancefloor. Kuti once said, “Music must awaken citizens to do their duty and act”, but it’s fair to say Wizkid’s own approach to politics is a little different.
“I Love Fela. I got him tatted on me,” Wizkid says. “But I see things differently. I make my own decisions. The Afrobeats music from the last 12 years has been about changing the way the world sees Nigeria and Africa. To lead the way in that shift, and show that we need to love ourselves and love the people around us; that’s what our music has to do. Nigeria needs to be known for love. That is very powerful.”
He refuses to discuss Nigerian politics or its president Bola Tinubu in any great detail, putting down any questions on the subject. “I don’t like to speak about politicians in Nigeria. People in the streets care about themselves and what they are going to eat. They don’t give a f*** about nothing else.” Music, rather, is seen by Wizkid as a chance to escape the political malaise and put a smile back on people’s faces.
“Music saved my life,” he says, passionately. “I’ve seen friends who got in trouble. I don’t judge anybody badly, as if I wasn’t making music, well, God only knows what else I would be doing right now. Big shout out to all the hustlers, working in the heat.” One of the ways Wizkid says he stayed out of trouble was through joining the church choir at 11; his relationship with God remains tight all these years later. “Yeah, God is inside of me. I speak to God every day. He is inside of my head. Sometimes I feel like I’m God. He passes messages through me. He’s inside of you too."
Wizkid’s first big single was in 2011, Holla at your Boy, and five years later his collaboration with Drake sent him stratospheric. His crossover appeal was cemented with albums like 2017’s Sounds From The Other Side and 2020’s Made In Lagos. As someone around 5’4, I ask Wizkid if his confidence on stage had to be even bigger during those early star-making live shows. He certainly doesn’t have to worry about it now: "Uhhh, nah. I stand on my money stacks and I’m too tall. Yeah."
The conversation returns again to Wiz’s mother Jane, and an early tribute song called Joy. The song’s nostalgic atmosphere pockets the euphoria of being in the room during a baby’s first moments of life; a mother’s future hopes for her son; and nods, with its line “finally a boy” to Jane’s long wait to give birth to a little boy. It’s like the Afrobeats equivalent of Stevie Wonder’s Isn’t She Lovely.
“Being a dad [to four children, his youngest born just last year] myself has made me appreciate my parents’ patience even more, you know? Especially my mum. She made me into a go-getter. To me, women are God on earth. God is definitely a woman, for sure,” the singer says. “What’s more powerful than creating a life? My music is here to make women feel good from all cultures. It celebrates them. They’re valued.”
And does mum still give Wizkid grief for not becoming a doctor, as she originally dreamed? “Absolutely not” he concludes, the smile wattage now turned all the way up. “We’re way, way past that now.”
