Albums have become ubiquitous, and indispensable to life in this age. They have become soundtracks to the gentle patter of everyday living, vessels for the joy of music, conjuring it on demand, sometimes with a single tap. They are, for many, bookmarks—cultural artifacts capable of shaping, capturing and summoning the zeitgeist of an era. Their ubiquity lends to the notion that they have existed longer than they have. But albums are a fairly recent invention. They are also an art form shaped as much by technological and economic forces, as they are by the artists who create them.
In Nigeria, the album culture has shifted dramatically in the past few years. From the late 90s, stretching into the late 2010s, the Nigerian music market was singles driven. The formula for maintaining relevance, as an artist, used to be releasing a handful of hit singles in a year. Albums were still expected. Artists still released them. But they served a ceremonial purpose, mostly a contractual obligation to the label, and in some cases, an investment into building a solid music legacy. They had little sway in deciding an artist’s standing. In the period between 2011’s Omo Baba Olowo: The Genesis and 2019’s A Good Time, Davido released no studio albums, but was still unanimously regarded as a torchbearer for the Afropop genre.
Today, the narrative has taken a turn in the opposite direction. Albums are churned out at a blistering pace. In some cases, multiple albums from an artist in a single year. The tacit expectation from fans is an album per year; an expectation that is mostly met. For artists and labels, this might seem like a great thing. Albums signal a new era for artists; they generate fresh revenue from direct sales, streams and touring income; they also position artists to cinch awards and maintain relevance. For their fans, ever thirsty for new material from their favorite artists, this situation might also appear lacquered in gold dust, a sign of a thriving industry. But are there hidden costs? With the frequency of releases steeply ramping up every month, how long until the airwaves start to feel claustrophobic? And how feasible is it for artists to release this frequently, especially considering that they’re almost always on tour?
The story of the origin of music albums is winding, convoluted, but also wildly interesting. Before the concept of albums, as we know it today, music was primarily consumed through live performances. People would attend operas, plays, street shows. In many cases, the line between audience and musician blurred. The crowd and the artist would jointly conjure and revel in music. But after the performance ended, like the sky zipping it’s mouth shut after torrential downpour, the music would seize. Then the phonograph arrived, in the 19th century. A rectangular box, fitted with a metal cone the shape of a trumpet. More than yet another contraption of the era, it was magic. Capable of capturing the elusive, intangible essence that is music. It was the genie’s bottle, but a box.
In the 20th century, the forces of technology turned a new page, and with that came the shellac 78rpm; a sable, brittle disc capable of holding 3-4 minutes of music per side. These large, dark discs of resin, played using gramophones, formed the earliest concept of the word “record” (the noun used to denote music). Music was mainly sold as singles, with albums merely a compilation of singles sold together in book-like binders. Everything changed with the invention of the long playing (LP) vinyl record by Columbia Records in 1948. These LPs could hold 22 minutes of music per side. This new contraption quickly transformed the idea of the album from a collection of singles, to a cohesive artistic statement. Concept albums like The Beatles’ Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band became the standard. The large surface area of the vinyl also provided a canvas for visual expression and the concept of album covers was born.
Since the advent of the LP, the forces of invention and enterprise have taken several sharp turns, irreverently pulverizing and remodeling the concept of the album with each turn. Today, the biggest forces tugging at albums, and music in general, are the internet, and its proxies: social media and streaming. It’s now standard practice to first release a snippet on social media, to test the waters, before officially releasing a song, or a project. Social media, most notably X (formerly known as Twitter), has become a virtual town hall, where opinions coalesce and jostle, like the chatter of a noisy bazaar. It’s a barometer for the excitement around an imminent album. It’s also a virtual curia where early opinions of a project are formed, exchanged, debated, often-times fervently, providing artists with real time feedback.
Streaming has fundamentally altered the way albums are consumed. Before streaming, albums were consumed proactively. The listener, having purchased the album from a record shop, would, at a good time, slot the disc into the record player, plop into his seat, recline, possibly with a drink in hand, and simmer in the music. Now, with the ubiquity offered through streaming, album listening is many times a passive activity. Albums soundtrack gym sessions, jogs, lunch hours at work, commutes to and from work, bouts of doom-scrolling through social media. This has placed mellow, effacing music atop the totem pole; music that can gently co-exist with other activities.
In Nigeria, streaming has proved more than revolutionary. Streaming platforms are an omnidirectional network, tethering artists to listeners across the globe. The rise of these platforms played a significant role in actualizing the Afrobeats-to-the-World dream that early pioneers of the genre pushed for. The advent, and increasing adoption of streaming in Nigeria has also played a part in changing the nature of the music market—from singles-driven to project-centric.
Today the Afropop landscape sits atop a tricky slope. For now, it still holds the fort. But with every passing moment, the situation looks as though it could come apart at the seams, setting the industry back considerably. The typical A or B-list Nigerian artist today releases at least an album per year; spends the entire year flitting between countries across the globe, touring; only to restart the cycle the following year. It’s trite to say that good work requires quality time and effort. But making great albums takes more than this. Albums, like novels, are born from the artist’s headspace at a point in time. Headspace here refers to the richness of their lived experiences, their physical and mental state, as well as their level of inspiration. Great albums are furnished with a unique sonic landscape, fresh perspectives on a topic and affecting stories. With the grueling pace that has become emblematic of the Nigerian album release cycle, the constant touring, the ever-present line-ups of festivals, the pathological need to be constantly fixed at the fore of public glare, the industry is barreling towards unsustainable terrain. The pressure has curdled, like a black hole collapsing into itself, and is now pushing on every side. The cracks are starting to show.
This year, Afrobeats has conspicuously failed to produce a global hit; a first in eight years. At home, hits have also been painful scarce. Since 2018, an average of two new artists have broken into the mainstream. This year, while many have tried, no new artist has ascended into the mainstream. With a few exceptions, albums this year have suffered in quality. The situation is not entirely hopeless, in the three months left in the year, it’s possible, however unlikely, that the situation will take a turn for the better. However, these signs, these failings, are portentous of an imminent storm.
Speaking to Dazed Magazine, in their autumn issue, on the creation of her sophomore album The Year I Turned 21, Ayra Starr revealed she hit a creative wall. “You have to have things to write about, and I didn’t have that for two years because I was on tour and on the road for weeks and weeks,” She said. With the help of her artist friends and the strength of her will, she made it work, creating an album of the year contender. She was able to power through a creative fog to spawn an excellent album, this time. But her story paints a crisp portrait of the hurdles artists are currently faced with.
Similarly, in 2022, on The Zeze Millz Show, Fireboy revealed that he hit a creative wall in the process of making Playboy. “I was doubting myself, I thought I lost my mojo. And then I experienced my first ever writer’s block.” Taking the advice of his label boss Olamide, he took time off, slinking between cities in the US in the pursuit of reprieve. This experience formed the crux of his Playboy album which spawned global hit Peru. Since then however, he has doubled down with often sloppy, listless singles that fall short of his usual standards. His fourth studio album Adedamola, released to quash the aspersions that had been steadily bubbling around him, failed to measure up to his typical threshold, critically or commercially.
According to Dapo Ayo-Adeusi, A&R lead at Warner Music Africa, short attention spans, and the oversaturation of streaming services have forced many artists into a situation where they feel the need to release frequently or risk being relegated to the periphery. “There’s about a hundred thousand, maybe more tracks, that are released on a weekly basis, because the barrier to entry for music today is very low.” He said. “You realize that as an artist, you have to find a way to keep staying in people’s faces.” From the perspective of labels, this also applies. They exist to support their artists but also to make money. Prodding the artist on to release music could therefore be a path towards recouping investments and meeting revenue targets. Omolola Ige, marketing manager, Sony Music West Africa, asserts that in her experience, there can be internal pressure, from labels, on artists, to release frequently. “In Nigeria, particularly, artists may be signed to multi-album deals or 360-degree contracts, which tie their creative output to specific release schedules. Fulfilling these contractual requirements can be a significant driver of the pressure to release.”
Ayo-Adeusi also cites the rising value of music catalogs as another reason why artists feel the need to release frequently. But more than that, touring is perhaps the biggest reason. “They want to have new music to perform. And with the world where the world is going, the amount of money that artists are making from performance and from touring, it’s so much more than what they make from streaming.”
Ige is of the opinion that the current album-release cycle is unsustainable. “I’ve seen firsthand how the pressure to release an album every year can take a toll on artists. It’s like they’re on a never-ending treadmill, constantly churning out content without a break. And honestly, I think it’s unsustainable,” She said. The current release cycle is as grueling for the artists as it is for the fans. It leads to burnout, mediocre output and creative blocks for the artists. For the fans, with so much music being churned out every day, they can feel suffocated, overwhelmed, overstimulated by the sheer volume of it all. Ayo-Adeusi also thinks it’s unsustainable. “It’s not very sustainable. I know some people are prolific, but it gets to a point where the strength or depth of your work doesn’t come through as much, and you start to dwindle.”
It’s not far-fetched to assert that the Nigerian music industry is at an existential crossroads. But what does the solution look like? For Ayo-Adeusi, it’s straightforward. It comes down to understanding why the album cycle has ramped up so precipitously, and finding an alternative, viable fix. Artists need to stay top of mind amid a landscape rife with short attention spans and oversaturation. They need to be seen as in-demand, in order to secure festival spots and embark on tours. Flooding the market with an album every year has proven to be a flawed and unsustainable strategy, so what’s the better strategy?
There are multiple ways to maintain relevance while giving fans space to breathe and build anticipation for a new album. Tems and Rema can serve as case-studies. Rema released his debut album three years into his career. Tems five years down the road. They were, however, highly regarded and sought after, even before their projects came along. How did they do it? A throughline in their strategies is high impact singles and EPs. Sometimes it’s as simple as making a really good song or EP. Albums define eras, but a really good run of singles, or an EP, can serve as forward propulsion, enough to sustain momentum for a year. Being active at major culturally significant events is another avenue. Interviews with vaunted media outfits and attending shows like The Grammys, The Academy Awards,The MET Gala, Brit Awards, The Headies—events with cultural heft.
Collaborations are another important, but easily overlooked, lifeboat. Tems’ monster run in 2021 and 2022 came in the form of collaborations with Wizkid and Future, respectively. Remixes and Deluxes are a great way of leveraging existing momentum. Rema and Omah Lay released successful albums in 2022. The deluxe versions to their respective albums, released the following year, preserved, if not amplified, their momentum. Similarly, Wizkid consolidated his 2020 exploits with Made in Lagos, through an even more successful deluxe album. Outside of music, venturing into other fields to maintain relevance is also welcome. In the western world, America in particular, it’s not uncommon to see artists straddle music and acting. It’s not so in Nigeria. However, a few artists have been able to make the jump. Falz is one of those. In 2016, he became the first musician to win an Africa Magic Viewers’ Choice, AMVCA, award. His exploits in acting provided him impetus for the forward vaunt in music, the following year.
For Ige, the solution lies in focusing on quality over quantity; prioritizing meaningful, impactful music that resonates with people. More creative marketing strategies, leveraging social media, collaborations, and immersive experiences to cut through the noise. “Most importantly, investing in our artists’ growth and well-being. Artist development programs can help nurture talent, foster innovation, and promote sustainability. By putting people first, we can build a healthier music ecosystem that benefits everyone.”
