When we talk about the biggest African music collaboration ever, we're not just counting streams or chart positions. We're looking at cultural impact, cross-border unity, and the power to truly transform how the world sees African music.

Our journey begins where West Africa meets South, a partnership that has consistently produced continental anthems. When Ice Prince and AKA (deceased) joined forces on "N Word" back in 2014, they weren't just making a song; they were constructing a bridge between Nigerian hip-hop's braggadocio and South Africa's kwaito-influenced swagger. The track's bilingual flows—English seamlessly switching between Nigerian Pidgin and South African slang—created a template for how artists from different regions could maintain their authentic voices while building something entirely new.

This blueprint evolved into the amapiano-Afrobeats fusion we hear today. When Kabza De Small and DJ Maphorisa brought Nigerian artists into the amapiano fold, they didn't dilute either sound. Instead, tracks like their collaboration with Wizkid and Burna Boy on Sponono proved that South Africa's log drum patterns and Nigeria's infectious melodies could coexist, each element amplifying the other. This cross-pollination set the stage for even more ambitious partnerships that would soon capture global attention.

The collaborations that followed rewrote the rules entirely. When Essence by Wizkid and Tems caught fire in 2020—before Justin Bieber even touched the remix—it was African artists driving global culture on their own terms. The song's success wasn't about featuring a Western star; it was about the undeniable chemistry between Wizkid's laid-back delivery and Tems' ethereal vocals, creating something the world couldn't ignore. By the time Bieber hopped on the remix in 2021, he was joining their wave, not the other way around.

Similarly, when Fireboy DML and Ed Sheeran crafted Peru, the magic lay in how Fireboy maintained his Afrobeats essence while Sheeran adapted his pop sensibilities to the rhythm, not the other way around. The remix topped charts across Europe and proved that African artists could collaborate with global superstars as equals—creative partners, not grateful guests. These partnerships forged entirely new fan communities worldwide, with American teens learning Yoruba phrases and European festival crowds mastering Afrobeats dance moves. This was African music reshaping global pop culture in real-time.

Yet the story doesn't end in Lagos or Johannesburg. East Africa has been quietly building its own collaborative ecosystem that deserves equal recognition. Diamond Platnumz's work with artists across the continent, from Nigeria's Davido to South Africa's Focalistic, has made Bongo Flava a pan-African language. His 2021 collaboration with Focalistic and Mapara A Jazz on "Mapozi" blended Tanzania's Swahili flows with South African amapiano in a way that felt organic, not forced. Tanzania's Zuchu and Nigeria's Joeboy "Nobody" created a cross-regional love anthem that dominated streaming in both regions, proving that East-West collaborations can match the commercial success of any South-North partnership. The song's success opened doors for more Swahili-language tracks to gain traction in traditionally Anglophone markets, further expanding the definition of what African music collaboration could achieve.

These collaborations have also fundamentally changed the economics of African music. Before 2015, African artists typically earned very little from streaming. Today, Afrobeats playlists boast of millions of followers, and international record labels are eager to sign African talent. When Wizkid's "Essence" became the first Nigerian song to chart on the Billboard Hot 100, it wasn't just a personal achievement for him; it also validated African music as commercially viable on the global stage. This success led to publishing deals, touring revenues, and brand partnerships, resulting in sustainable careers for artists who previously relied solely on local performances. This economic transformation has empowered a new generation of artists to invest in their craft and connect with audiences they once thought were out of reach.

Some collaborations transcend typical success and become historical markers that define entire eras. "Jerusalema" by Master KG and Nomcebo Zikode didn't just top charts; it became the soundtrack to a global pandemic. Released in 2019 but exploding worldwide in 2020, "Jerusalema" offered something the lockdown world desperately needed: joy. The song's gospel-inflected house beat and Nomcebo's soaring Zulu vocals carried a message of faith and resilience that transcended language barriers. When the #JerusalemaDanceChallenge went viral, we saw healthcare workers, police officers, and families all around the world dancing in unison to South African music. Priests blessed congregations with it, and couples choose it for their first dance.

This wasn't just viral marketing; it was African music providing genuine comfort during humanity's darkest modern moment. "Jerusalema" proved that African artists didn't need to sing in English or mimic Western sounds to achieve global resonance. Authenticity, it turned out, was the most universal language of all. The song has since accumulated over 500 million views on YouTube and streams across every continent, but its true impact can't be measured in numbers. It fundamentally shifted how the world perceived African music, from exotic novelty to essential soundtrack.

No conversation about African music collaboration is complete without acknowledging North Africa's contributions and the thriving Francophone scene that often flies under the radar of mainstream coverage. For example, Algerian-born Miraa May teamed up with South African producer Jaydon Lewis and DJ Lady Du on the track, Don't you see freestyle (Pt. 2), blending amapiano with Algerian influences. Meanwhile, the Francophone African music scene is gradually building its own collaborative networks. For instance, the Ivorian coupé-décalé artists have not yet begun to actively collaborate with Cameroonian musicians; they are sampling their music. These samples seldom receive attention in Anglophone media, yet they are reshaping African music from within.

We also have the Francophone collaborating with their Anglophone counterparts. A notable example is Congolese rapper Ninho collaborating with Ayra Starr on "No Love." This collaboration showcases how linguistic and regional barriers can be overcome in the name of music, demonstrating that the spirit of collaboration extends well beyond the most prominent partnerships.

So what's the biggest African music collaboration ever? It's not one song or one partnership. It's the ongoing conversation between artists across 54 countries and thousands of ethnic groups. It's the cumulative effect of these creative exchanges, each one teaching the world something new about African excellence. The biggest collaboration is the collective movement: Nigerian producers learning amapiano production techniques from Johannesburg, Ghanaian artists incorporating Bongo Flava rhythms, Senegalese rappers jumping on Afrobeats remixes, and Ethiopian jazz musicians sampling contemporary Lagos sounds. It's Burna Boy shouting out Fela Kuti and Lucky Dube in the same breath. It's the young producer in Nairobi who grew up on Nigerian Afrobeats now creating the next hybrid genre.

These artists aren't just making music; they're collectively redefining what African music means in the 21st century. They demonstrate that Africa is not a single sound but a collection of sounds, each valuable and deserving of global attention. The real winners are those whose collaborative spirit is propelling African music to be the fastest-growing genre globally, with streaming numbers increasing by over 500% in the past five years. This isn't a trend or a moment; it's a fundamental shift in global music culture, with African artists at the center rather than the margins.

And perhaps most excitingly, the biggest collaboration ever hasn't happened yet. It's waiting to be recorded in a studio in Kigali, Accra, or Luanda, ready to surprise us all and redefine African music once more. The question isn't which collaboration was biggest, but which one will be next. What African music collaboration changed your perspective on the continent's creative power? The conversation continues, add your voice.

What's the BIGGEST African music collaboration of all time? The answer might surprise you.

The Biggest African Music Collaboration Ever is ...

Singeli is one of Tanzania’s most electrifying contemporary sounds. Originating with the Zaramo people in Mtogole, a neighborhood in Dar es Salaam’s Tandale ward, it emerged in the mid-2000s as a local ngoma music and dance style. Singeli blends traditional and modern influences, where an MC performs over fast-paced taarab-inspired instrumentals that can reach up to 300 beats per minute.

During performances, women often compete in a captivating dance style known as chura, creating a vibrant back-and-forth between rhythm and movement.

Singeli music incorporates a variety of elements like Taarab's melody, Kwaito's bounce, and Tanzania's hip-hop. Male MCs typically lean toward high-tempo rap deliveries, while female MCs often perform kwaya-style vocals, adding contrast and texture to the genre’s fast rhythm.

At the center, Singeli shows the Urban youth culture of Dar es Salaam. The lyrics are sung in Swahili, touching everyday struggles, humor, and social realities of the street, becoming a form of both expression and escape for Tanzania’s younger generation.

However, recently, the sound has evolved from initially being a socially outcast music genre to becoming one of the major musical exports of Tanzania, possibly second only to Bongo flava.

In 2018, producer Bamba Pana released Poaa on the Ugandan label Nyege Nyege Tapes — a nine-track project of hyper-fast, abrasive beats that pushed Singeli’s boundaries. Some standout experimentation was on Naona Laaah by Duke, who layered an avalanche of radio snippets in the song. These experimental takes, though sometimes overwhelming, showcase Singeli’s creativity.

Other staple collaborations include Jay Mitta’s Tatizo Pesa featuring 15-year-old Dogo Mjanja, and Bamba Pana’s Lingalinga with veteran MC Makaveli.

In May 2025, Tanzania’s Minister for Information, Culture, Arts, and Sports, Prof. Palamagamba Kabudi, announced that Singeli’s nomination dossier had been officially submitted to UNESCO for recognition as part of the nation’s intangible cultural heritage. Crediting it as an identity marker, comparing it to a potential global influence on reggae in Jamaica or Amapiano in South Africa.

Beyond Tanzania, Singeli’s sound has become a favorite at East African and international festivals, with artists like DJ Sisso and Maiko performing at events such as Nyege Nyege (Uganda), DUO Festival (Belgium), Primavera Sound (Spain), Apporlibation (Germany), and Cora Festival (France). Their performances have introduced global audiences to the fast sound that is distinctly Tanzanian.

Although the genre has grown mainstream, it still faces challenges as it grows internationally. From limited infrastructure and production resources to the need for greater industry recognition and global-standard support systems, Singeli continues to expand and carry the creativity and pulse of Dar es Salaam.

Singeli is one of Tanzania’s most electrifying contemporary sounds.

Genre Spotlight: Singeli Music in Tanzania

When people think of Africa’s music capitals, Lagos, Johannesburg, and Accra often steal the spotlight. Their rhythms and artists dominate global charts, from Afrobeats to Amapiano. But quietly, another city has been shaping its own story, drawing talent, investment, and international ears in ways that are impossible to ignore. That city is Nairobi.

For years, Kenya’s capital has been the beating heart of East Africa’s cultural scene. Its mix of languages, its street energy, and its cosmopolitan pulse have created fertile ground for a sound that refuses to be boxed in. Nairobi has long been home to genres like gengetone, kapuka, and benga, but what makes its rise as a hub compelling is how these local sounds are colliding with Afrobeats, hip hop, EDM, and reggae to form something truly global.

Streaming numbers from the city are on the rise, with Kenyan artists finding new audiences across Africa and beyond. International collaborations are no longer rare—producers and DJs from London, Lagos, and New York are flying in, drawn to the city’s creative energy and its ever-growing festival culture. Blankets and Wine, Nyege Nyege (just across the border in Uganda), and a wave of underground showcases have turned Nairobi into a must-visit stop on Africa’s live music circuit.

The city’s youth are the drivers of this movement, blending digital savvy with raw creativity. Platforms like YouTube, TikTok, Josplay, and Spotify are amplifying voices that might once have stayed underground, while Nairobi’s studios are becoming laboratories where East Africa’s next big sounds are born.

If Lagos is the engine of Afrobeats and Johannesburg the soul of Amapiano, Nairobi is becoming the laboratory of fusion—where boundaries blur, traditions reinvent themselves, and the future of African music feels wide open. For those watching closely, the shift is clear: Nairobi is not just catching up. It’s leading a new wave.

A new city is quietly rising to claim its place on Africa’s music map.

The African City Becoming the Next Music Hub ...

The African City Becoming the Next Music Hub …

Baladi, meaning “of the country” in Arabic, is one of Egypt’s most popular and deeply rooted urban folk styles. Originating from working-class neighborhoods in Cairo, it was tied from the start to everyday social life—weddings, street celebrations, community festivals, and small gatherings—and became inseparable from belly dance.

The sound is carried by percussion and melody, with the tabla (goblet drum), riq (tambourine), ney (reed flute), and accordion/violin making up its sound composition. The steady rhythms of the drums and the improvised lines of the flute and melodic instruments create an intuitive call for dancers to respond to.

Today, Baladi continues to exist in both its pure form and through modern fusions. Belly dancers across Egypt and around the world continue to perform traditional Baladi music, keeping the dialogue between music and dance alive in Egyptian culture.

At the same time, the style appears in mainstream spaces, particularly at events like the annual Callia Festival in Egypt, where Baladi takes center stage through performances by Callia master teachers who bring both traditional and experimental interpretations each year. This balance of continuity and reinvention has helped the genre stay visible in Egypt's cultural landscape.

That experimental spirit has grown more adventurous in recent years. In 2025, Baladi is not only performed in its traditional form but also fused with global sounds

Recent productions such as AFRONOM, ASLN & Timor Jana’s Baladi (Arabic Afro House) demonstrate how the music can enter club culture while still carrying the cultural essence and expression. These experiments have introduced Baladi to younger audiences and international listeners, giving the style new life outside of its usual settings.

Yet, at the root of it, Baladi remains what it has always been: the music of the people, deeply in sync with Cairo's pulse, sustaining belly dance as an art form, carrying Egyptian identity forward through both preservation and reinvention.

Baladi, meaning “of the country” in Arabic, is one of Egypt’s most popular and deeply rooted urban folk styles

Baladi Music in Egypt

Genre Spotlight: Baladi Music (Egypt)

On a hot afternoon in Havana, the beat of drums fills the air. The rhythms are sharp, insistent, and yet playful. A circle gathers—singers clap in unison, voices rise and fall in call-and-response, and two dancers step into the center. She teases with swift, graceful steps; he lunges forward, playful, almost mischievous. The crowd erupts with laughter, claps, and cheers. This is Rumba: a music dance genre born of resilience, memory, and survival. Yet its story begins long before Havana. Its heartbeat is African.

When enslaved Africans were forced across the Atlantic, they carried more than endurance for brutal labor, they carried memory. In the rhythms of their drums, the chants of their ceremonies, and the sway of their dances lived fragments of a homeland. On Cuban soil, those fragments collided with Spanish colonial culture. European guitars and melodies intertwined with African polyrhythms, producing something new yet rooted in memory. In Havana and Matanzas during the late 19th century, that something became Rumba.

Unlike the ballroom dances of the colonial elite, Rumba was the people’s art. It was performed in docks, courtyards, and street corners. The instruments spoke of adaptation: the cajón, a wooden box turned drum when African drums were forbidden; the congas, made from barrels; and the claves, two sticks whose clicking rhythm became the heartbeat of Afro-Cuban music. Voices lifted in playful call-and-response, while dancers gave the rhythm shape. Yambú moved with grace, Guaguancó teased with its flirtatious vacunao, and Columbia burst with improvisation and athletic energy. Each style carried not just entertainment, but heritage.

Decades later, the sound that was born in Cuba began another journey. By the 1940s and 1950s, Cuban records and radio waves crossed the ocean to Africa. In Kinshasa and Brazzaville, the music was at once exotic and deeply familiar. Listeners heard in Rumba the echoes of ancestral rhythms. Congolese musicians began to imitate Cuban songs, even singing the Spanish lyrics phonetically, but quickly reshaped them with local languages, new rhythms, and their own stories.

From this reinvention, Congolese Rumba was born. It grew into a cultural force, the soundtrack of African independence movements in the 1960s. Franco Luambo Makiadi, Tabu Ley Rochereau, Papa Wemba, and groups like Zaïko Langa Langa transformed Rumba again, carrying it into Soukous, a fast-paced, guitar-driven style that electrified dancefloors across the continent. In a full-circle moment, the music of Africa’s children returned to the motherland, reborn and renewed.

Today, Rumba belongs to the world. In 2016, UNESCO recognized Cuban Rumba as part of humanity’s intangible cultural heritage. Five years later, Congolese Rumba earned the same recognition, affirming its place as a bridge between continents and histories. From Havana’s patios to Kinshasa’s nightclubs, the beat of the drums continues to call, and dancers continue to answer.

The journey of Rumba is a testament to survival and reinvention. It reminds us that culture cannot be silenced and that rhythm holds memory. Born in Cuba, carried back to Africa, and celebrated worldwide, Rumba is both Cuban and African, ancient and modern, local and global. And as long as the drums echo across oceans, they carry a timeless truth: music always finds its way home.

Rumba is a Cuban music and dance style with deep West African roots.

Rumba: The Dance that Left Africa, Found a Home in Cuba, and Returned to the Motherland

Gradually, 2025 edges toward its last quarter, and African artists have given us a year to remember. Records were broken, new ones set, stages sold out, award shelves filled, and playlists across the globe flooded with Afrobeats, Amapiano, Bongo Flava, and beyond. The big question remains, who really topped the streaming charts this year?

Before we crown the leader, let’s revisit the sounds that kept us grooving in 2025.

From Wizkid’s “Kese (Dance)” riding waves of global playlists, to Burna Boy’s catalog powerhouses like “Last Last” still pulling millions daily, and Tems stacking more billions thanks to features and singles, the heavyweights remained untouchable. Davido’s Timeless era still poured in strong numbers, while Ayra Starr’s fresh run with “Santa” and “Rush” cemented her as a playlist darling.

But 2025 wasn’t just about the familiar names. Viral moments and unexpected anthems gave us some of the year’s defining sounds:

“Shake It To The Max (FLY)” by Moliy, Silent Addy, (feat. Skillibeng & Shenseea) — a dance challenge turned streaming machine, with remixes boosting it past 325 million Spotify streams and TikTok pushing it to every corner of the globe.

“Laho” by Shallipopi — proof that local languages travel; this Bini-language anthem racked up 30 million Spotify streams by mid-2025 and became a Nigerian street hit gone global.

“My Darling” by Chella — the bouncy groove that crossed generations. It hit 47.8 million Spotify streams and more than 90 million on YouTube Music, while topping the Official Nigeria Top 100 with 2.8M on-demand weekly plays.

“Nairobi” by Marioo (ft. Bien) — Bongo Flava’s gift to the continent this year, spotlighting East Africa’s growing dominance on TikTok and streaming playlists.

“Venus” by Fcaeless (ft. Serotonin) — one of 2025’s most TikTok-friendly tracks, its viral dance challenges turned it into a global crossover smash.

These songs underline what 2025 has taught us: TikTok virality, remixes with cross-border collaborators, and language authenticity are just as important as catalogue strength.

The Top 3 Most Streamed African Artists of 2025 (Spotify, all-credits, as of Sept 25, 2025)

Chasing close: Davido (~3.01B) and Ayra Starr (~2.97B).

On a final note, African music in 2025 is bigger, bolder, and more diverse than ever. Whether it’s a global superstar racking up billions or a breakout viral anthem climbing week by week, one thing is certain: the world is still pressing play on Africa.

As the year winds down, we crown the most streamed African artist of 2025 and spotlight the songs that defined the sound of the continent.

The Most Streamed African Artist of 2025 is

The Most Streamed African Artist of 2025 is …

Across Africa, a calabash plays many roles. Sometimes as an eating plate, drinking bowl, storage container, and even a musical instrument like the Ṣẹ̀kẹ̀rẹ̀, Kora, Ngoni, and the Balafon, all from West Africa. Likewise, among the Xhosa people of South Africa, the calabash found a musical place: the resonating chamber of the uhadi, a musical bow whose very name evokes depth. In isiXhosa, uhadi refers not only to a deep hollow but also to the fullness of a woman’s breast, a fitting metaphor since the curve and size of the gourd shape the sound of the bow itself.

The uhadi has always been more than wood, string, and calabash. It is a cultural treasure most often held by women. For generations, Xhosa women have been the makers, players, and keepers of this instrument. They fashioned the bow themselves, measured it to the length of their own arms, and fitted the gourd so that it rested comfortably against the body when played.

The story of the Uhadi begins much earlier, with the San people, the original hunter-gatherers of Southern Africa. The San carried bows for hunting, but they also discovered another use for them: music. By attaching a calabash to the bow, the soft pluck of the string grew into a voice-like resonance. Over time, the Khoisan refined this instrument, and the Xhosa made it their own, choosing wood from the umbangandhlela tree, a species native to the Eastern Cape, to shape the bow. The uhadi also has a cousin among the Zulu, known as the umkhweyana. Both instruments share the same basic idea: a wooden bow, a string, and a resonating gourd. However, they differ in design. On the uhadi, the gourd is attached to the side of the bow and tends to be larger, while the Zulu version places a smaller gourd at the center. These subtle differences give each instrument a distinct tone and style, reflecting the uniqueness of each culture.

What truly gives the uhadi its voice, however, is the calabash. Without it, the instrument produces only a faint tone, but when pressed gently against the player’s breast, the gourd resonates and amplifies the sound, turning a single plucked string into something that seems to breathe with life. Even the size of the calabash was once measured against a woman’s breast, ensuring not only sound quality but comfort while playing. In this way, the instrument’s design carries a deep intimacy, rooted in both practicality and symbolism.

Traditionally, women used the uhadi to accompany songs about everyday life. Some songs carried place names, mapping memory into melody. Others told stories of journeys, events, or topical happenings. The bow’s simple design of just wood, string, and gourd belies the depth of expression it could carry, from haunting tones to rhythmic accompaniment.

In many ways, the uhadi is more than an instrument. It is the story of how the San’s hunting bow transformed into a cultural tool, how women became its guardians, and how a calabash — humble, ordinary, yet deeply symbolic — could hold the resonance of a people’s voice. Even today, the sound of the uhadi is a reminder that music is not just about entertainment. It is about roots, memory, and the quiet but enduring power of women who have kept this tradition alive for centuries.

The uhadi is more than a bow of wood, string, and calabash.

The Story of the Uhadi

At the beginning of 2025, Cameroon welcomed Nigerian Afrobeats and hip-hop star Odumodublvck, a sign of how Afrobeats has carved out space in the country. The wave of change had already been slightly felt earlier, in 2022, when Libianca’s breakout hit People put Cameroon in the spotlight with raw, emotional storytelling about depression and loneliness. The song sparked conversations across the continent and suggested that there might be a new player on the table in the Afrobeats conversation.

It’s also worth noting that Cameroonian artists have been making their own mark in Afrobeats for years. Since 2018, names like Rhamani and Salatiel have consistently released Afrobeats tracks that earned regional traction. Rhamani’s Legedis has passed 1.5 million streams, while Salatiel’s Water featuring Pharrell Williams and Beyoncé has also crossed 50 million streams. These releases prove that Cameroon has been part of the Afrobeats wave long before collaborations became the main strategy.

But, for the past two years, debates over Afrobeats in Cameroon have been intense. Some clamored for banning Nigerian Afrobeats altogether because of its overwhelming dominance of local airwaves. However, instead of pushing back, Cameroonian artists have chosen to collaborate. Names like Ko-c, Libianca, and Mr. Leo are working with Nigerian and other African stars to reach audiences beyond Cameroon and the Francophone world.

The argument that homegrown genres are being overshadowed doesn’t fully hold today. Platforms like Josplay Music, Spotify, and Apple Music have reshaped listening habits, giving fans access to a wide range of sounds. For artists, the real challenge is learning to leverage these platforms through smart collaborations and visibility tools like playlists, which also help preserve and showcase local styles.For artists, the real challenge is learning to leverage these platforms through smart collaborations and genre, music and artist visibility tools like playlists, which also help preserve and showcase local styles

One striking example is Ko-c’s collaboration with Patoranking, produced by MasterKraft, which blends Afrobeats with Igbo traditional elements. The track Credit Alert has already crossed 1.3 million streams on Spotify, showing how cross-border creativity can resonate with many people.

Still, Afrobeats in Cameroon occupy a complicated space. On one hand, the genre is loved by artists and fans. But on the other hand, critics say its rise has overshadowed homegrown sounds such as Makossa and Bikutsi, slowing their promotion and innovation.

Others argue that Nigerian Afrobeats may not even be consumed as heavily in Cameroon as people assume; the bigger challenge lies in weak local support systems. Many Cameroonian artists struggle with limited promotion and inconsistent fan backing, which prevents even high-quality songs from gaining the momentum they deserve.

The main problem is not about talent but about support and infrastructure. Concert attendance, streaming numbers, and fan engagement often fall short, leaving artists without the momentum needed to compete regionally and internationally.

For Cameroonian Afrobeats and Afropop to thrive, the industry will need to double down on smart marketing, stronger promotion, and collaborations with artists who have already attained a level of global reach.

Cameroon has been part of the Afrobeats wave long before collaborations became the main strategy.

Genre Spotlight: Afrobeats in Cameroon

Let’s be honest—African women in music aren’t just breaking the rules, they’re rewriting the whole playbook. From Lagos to Johannesburg, Nairobi to Accra, these powerhouse performers are shaking tables, setting trends, and putting the world on notice. The question would have been: who’s doing it best? But rather we choose to celebrate each person’s uniqueness in no particular order.

Tems (Nigeria): The soulful rebel who turned vulnerability into a global sound. Grammy in hand, yet still moving like she’s got nothing to prove.

Ayra Starr (Nigeria): The “Sabi Girl” who refuses to dim her shine. She’s young, fearless, and a whole vibe—Gen Z’s unapologetic anthem in human form.

Tyla (South Africa): Popiano’s international sweetheart. She’s flipping dance floors worldwide, proving South Africa’s groove is everyone’s groove.

Tiwa Savage (Nigeria): The Queen Mother of Afrobeats. With over a decade of hits, she’s still serving bops, beauty, and boss energy in equal measure.

Yemi Alade (Nigeria): Mama Africa herself, blending Afropop with fierce stage presence. She’s been flying the African flag high long before it was trendy.

Sho Madjozi (South Africa): The rainbow-haired star who brings Tsonga culture to the center stage. She’s playful, poetic, and proudly different.

Simi (Nigeria): The honey-voiced storyteller of love, life, and everything in between. She makes soft sound strong.

Amaarae (Ghana): Genre-fluid and boundary-breaking, her futuristic sound proves Ghana isn’t just in the conversationn, it’s leading it.

Zuchu: Tanzanian royalty on the rise, carrying bongo flava to new heights with effortless charm.

Muthoni Drummer Queen: Nairobi’s own creative powerhouse, mixing hip hop, African rhythms, and activism.

One thing’s clear: the rules were never made for them. So, today we celebrate all of these iconic African women rewriting history in their space and together in the African music industry.

Female African music stars truly hold no bars – they are rule-breakers, hitmakers, and game-changers!

Female African Music Stars

Africa’s Women Are Rewriting the Soundtrack

Have you ever heard of the N’dehou, the single-note Pygmy flute that can mimic the call of a bird? Perhaps not, but you may know the name Francis Bebey, the Cameroonian composer, writer, and musicologist who became synonymous with this remarkable instrument.

The N’dehou is a traditional bamboo flute, no bigger than a pencil and deceptively simple at first glance. Unlike the Yoruba dundun, a talking drum that echoes the tones of human speech, the N’dehou echoes the voices of the forest. Its single, bird-like note seems minimal, but the magic lies in how it is played.

The players use the flute in a call-and-response with their own high-pitched vocals. The N’dehou speaks in its pure, haunting tone, and the voice replies with melodies that dance around that single pitch. The result is more than music. It is a dialogue between human and nature, breath and bamboo, simplicity and sophistication.

For centuries, the N’dehou remained a hidden treasure of Central African Pygmy communities, until Francis Bebey (1929–2001) carried its sound onto the world stage. Bebey was a true Renaissance figure. He was a composer, writer, musicologist, and cultural ambassador. He immersed himself in its traditions, learning directly from Pygmy players during his field research. He recognized that the N’dehou embodied something profound about human creativity: that even a single note could contain a universe of meaning.

The N’dehou may produce only one sound, but within that sound rests the weight of centuries, the breath of the forest, and the dreams of countless musicians. In a world crowded with noise, it offers something rare: the space to listen, to breathe, and to remember what music is really about.

Unlike the Yoruba dundun, a talking drum that echoes the tones of human speech, the N’dehou echoes the voices of the forest.

The Ndehou

The N’dehou: A Single Note That Speaks Volumes

Yes, we have the Afrobeats, Amapiano, Mbalax, Genge, Benga, Soukous, Kuduro, and other key genres in African music. But is it possible that there are African music genres that you’ve never heard of but should have?

Let's take a quick trip to the white-sand beaches and crystal-clear waters of Zanzibar, where music serves as a bridge between many worlds. Here, African rhythms collided with Arab melodies, Indian scales, and even European orchestral traditions to create a genre unlike any other: Taarab.

Before describing Taarab, please take a moment to listen to a sample piece: Ya Laiti by Bi Kidude.

Taarab is lush, poetic, and deeply emotional. Sung mostly in Swahili, its lyrics often explore love, longing, and social commentary, delivered with the elegance of poetry. The instrument arrangement is a blend of the oud (a Middle Eastern lute), violins, accordions, and percussion, weaving a sound that feels both classical and coastal.

The roots go back to the late 19th century, when Sultan Seyyid Barghash of Zanzibar invited Egyptian musicians to his palace. Over time, locals adapted the style, embedding African storytelling and rhythm into it. One of Taarab’s most celebrated voices, Bi Kidude, turned the genre into a powerful vehicle for cultural pride, women empowerment, and resistance.

Unlike the fast-paced beats of Afrobeats or Amapiano, Taarab invites listeners to sit, reflect, and feel. It is music that carries the salt air of the Indian Ocean, the poetry of Swahili tradition, and the layered history of trade, migration, and cultural exchange.

Interestingly, as Taarab spread beyond the Zanzibar shores, it evolved into other equally interesting subgenres with fascinating regional characteristics across the East African coast, each reflecting local tastes and cultural influences.

One is the Mombasa style. This style is the closest to its Arab roots, with the oud taking center stage and musical structures that hew closely to traditional Arabic maqam music. The Mombasa style preserves the genre's original Middle Eastern DNA while incorporating Swahili poetry and coastal African sensibilities.

Another subgenre is the Tanga style. This style represents a more contemporary approach, marking a significant departure from traditional instrumentation. Electric guitars replace ouds, keyboards and drum machines provide the rhythmic foundation, and the music incorporates more pronounced African rhythms from ngoma traditions. This style demonstrates how Taarab adapted to modern tastes while maintaining its poetic soul.

The Zanzibar Style remains the keeper of classical Taarab traditions. Here, the original instrumentation—oud, violins, accordions, and traditional percussion—continues to weave those distinctive melodies that first emerged in Sultan Barghash's palace over a century ago.

Would you like to experience more of Taarab music? Explore the works of both legendary artists, such as Bi Kidude, and contemporary innovators like Jahazi Modern Taarab, on the African Music Library.

Fatuma binti Baraka, best known as Bi Kidude, was a renowned Tanzanian taarab singer, known as the "Queen of Taarab" music.

Tanzanian Taarab singer Bi Kidude

The African Music Genre You’ve Never Heard of (But Should)

Sudanese jazz is one of those genres created out of cultural intersection. Its roots can be traced back to the 1920s, during the period of joint British–Egyptian rule in Sudan. At the center of this sound is Haqeeba music, a traditional Sudanese vocal form of music, characterized by a lead singer, a back-up choir, and the steady rhythm of the tar (frame drum). This structure provided the rhythmic backbone that was later merged with Western jazz elements introduced through colonial contact in the city of Khartoum, creating a sound that was unmistakably Sudanese, a reflection of the country’s creative and adaptive culture.

Sudanese jazz has a distinctive sound shaped by the fusion of African, Middle Eastern, and Western traditions. Its rhythms are rooted in syncopation and polyrhythms. Although it still has that swing feel like jazz, it still echoes Sudanese and Arabic music patterns due to the layered percussion and melodic instruments..

The instrumentation blends the tar (frame drum), the melodic oud and bowed strings, with Western jazz staples like the saxophone, trumpet and electric guitar, creating a textured composition.

The reign of Sudanese jazz, however, came much later. From the 1960s through the 1980s, Sudan experienced what many consider its golden age of popular music. Bands and soloists alike experimented boldly, blending local rhythms with African American jazz, soul, and funk influences. Their music filled nightclubs, weddings, radio airwaves, and public gatherings, becoming part of the social fabric of Sudan at the time.

This period gave rise to an entire scene of musicians and bands. Groups such as The Scorpions, Adwaa Bahri, and Jazz Al-Doyoum became household names, while solo artists like Sharhabil Ahmed and Kamal Keila carved their own legacies. Sharhabil, often referred to as the King of Sudanese Jazz, brought a playful energy and distinctive guitar-driven sound, while Keila’s music blended raw funk power with sharp political consciousness.

The revival of Sudanese jazz in recent years can be attributed to Habibi Funk Records, a Berlin-based reissue label dedicated to rediscovering music from the Arab world. The label has done a lot of work unearthing rare recordings that are now introduced to a new generation of listeners, with Sudanese Jazz and Somali Funk being some of their popular works. Their 2020 re-release of Sharhabil Ahmed’s tracks became a gateway for many into Sudanese music and culture.

One of the most celebrated finds in Sudanese jazz was the music of Kamal Keila, often compared to James Brown or Fela Kuti for the sheer force of his stage presence and political messaging. His album Muslims & Christians, reissued in 2018, stands as a testament to both unity and protest. Across ten tracks, Keila calls for peace between Sudan’s Muslim and Christian communities while simultaneously reflecting on the nation’s political history.

Today, Sudanese jazz continues to find audiences far beyond its borders. Digital platforms and curated playlists, such as Sudan: Habibi Funk Selection—with thousands of saves and hours of archival gems — and Sharhabil Ahmed’s The King of Sudanese Jazz (Habibi Funk 013) album, have introduced listeners worldwide to the sound of Sudan’s past golden era. The genre’s revival proves that music, even when buried by time and politics, can resurface with new relevance, offering both nostalgia and discovery for those who tune in.

Sudanese jazz is one of those genres created out of cultural intersection. It blends Haqeeba vocals, African rhythms, and Western instruments like saxophone and guitar.

Genre Spotlight: Sudanese Jazz

In the rich history of East African gospel music, few ensembles have demonstrated the longevity and spiritual impact of Uganda's Eschatos Bride Choir. Since their humble beginnings in 1971 as a modest trio led by Dr. Abbey Kibalama, this remarkable group has evolved into a cornerstone of Uganda's gospel scene, carrying a mission that extends far beyond entertainment.

The choir's name itself speaks to their theological foundation—derived from "eschatology," the group views itself as an end-time ministry dedicated to drawing souls to God in preparation for the Marriage Supper of the Lamb. This eschatological vision has remained central to their identity for over five decades, shaping both their musical output and ministerial approach.

Under Dr. Kibalama's leadership and the patronage of the late Rabbi Ezekiel Mulondo, the choir evolved from three voices united in purpose into a significant presence in Uganda's gospel scene. Their growth reflects not just musical development, but the expansion of a ministry that has resonated with audiences across the East African region and beyond.

One of the most compelling aspects of Eschatos Bride Choir lies in their seamless fusion of indigenous Ugandan music elements with contemporary gospel themes. Their sound incorporates traditional Ugandan percussion patterns, particularly the rhythmic structures found in Buganda court music, alongside indigenous vocal harmonies that draw from ancestral praise traditions. These elements are seamlessly woven together with modern gospel arrangements, creating music that feels both familiar to local audiences and accessible to international listeners.

The choir's extensive musical catalog represents a significant contribution to the broader conversation about cultural authenticity in African gospel music. Rather than adopting Western gospel styles the whole scale, they have consistently championed a distinctly Ugandan sound that maintains spiritual themes that cut across different cultures.

Their approach often features call-and-response patterns reminiscent of traditional Ugandan storytelling, accompanied by indigenous instruments like the amadinda (wooden xylophone) and engalabi (long drum). These musical choices reflect a deliberate effort to preserve and celebrate Uganda's cultural identity within Christian worship contexts.

Among their extensive catalog, two songs stand out, becoming anthems across different denominations. One of the songs is Tulina Ebbanja and it doubles as their most celebrated composition.Tulina Ebbanja featured as the title track of a 2023 album containing seven songs with a total duration of 35 minutes. The song's enduring popularity reflects the choir's ability to craft music that speaks to contemporary spiritual needs while maintaining traditions.

The other is Yesu Tonjabuliranga, which has maintained its relevance since its release, with the album continuing to be available on major streaming platforms. This particular composition exemplifies the choir's theological focus on Christ-centered worship, delivered through the music framework that is uniquely Ugandan yet universally accessible. The song's continued availability on major streaming platforms speaks to its lasting relevance in today's digital music landscape.

Despite evolving trends in the music industry, Eschatos Bride Choir continues producing new songs, demonstrating remarkable adaptability without compromising their core message. Recent releases, including Omwoyo N'omubiri from the album Obulwadde Bwa Ssiriimu and Katonda, Onsembeze from Essuubi Ly'eggulu, showcase their ongoing creativity and commitment to addressing contemporary spiritual concerns.

The choir's sustained productivity and relevance speak to something deeper than talent. They represent a continuity of faith expression that has weathered decades of social, political, and cultural change in Uganda and the East African region. Eschatos Bride Choir's five-decade journey from a trio to a regional gospel powerhouse offers insights into the evolution of African gospel music. Their ability to remain relevant while maintaining their founding principles offers valuable insights into the evolution of African gospel music.

As researchers of African music continue to document and analyze the continent's music heritage, the Eschatos Bride Choir stands as a case study in how indigenous traditions can flourish within contemporary religious contexts. Their story demonstrates that authenticity and innovation need not be opposing forces, but can work together to create music that honors the past while speaking to present and future generations.

Their legacy continues to influence emerging gospel artists across East Africa, proving that music rooted in culture and spiritual purpose possesses an enduring power that rises above temporal boundaries.

Eschatos Bride Choir is a Ugandan gospel group founded in 1971 by Dr. Abbey Kibalama, known for blending local rhythms with end-time, faith-based messages.

Eschatos Bride Choir

Eschatos Bride Choir, the Gospel Pioneers of Uganda

Picture this: It's the early 1950s in Cameroon's Western Highlands. A memorial event is underway, filled with the solemn rhythms of the traditional Netchaa dance. Then something magical happens. Young performers begin to reinterpret the ancient steps, breathing new life into age-old movements. Among them, a dancer named Dangmi Marie delivers a performance so brilliant, so unforgettable, that her very name becomes immortalized in the music history of her people.

From that moment, what began as a spark in a village celebration grew into a fire that would reshape the cultural soundscape of an entire people. This is the birth story of Mangambeu, a living musical tradition that embodies the creative spirit of the Bamiléké people and showcases how music can be simultaneously ancient and cutting-edge.

Mangambeu was never just another rhythm in Africa’s vast musical library. Rooted in the ceremonial life of the Bamiléké, it was born in spaces where music carried spiritual weight — funerals, weddings, and festivals where melodies were inseparable from memory and meaning. In these settings, music was not entertainment alone; it was the heartbeat of social connection.

Yet even as Mangambeu honored its ritual origins, it refused to remain bound by them. What made the genre extraordinary was its ability to balance reverence for the past with an appetite for innovation. It was tradition, yes, but tradition in motion.

If Dangmi Marie provided the spark, then Pierre Didy Tchakounté fanned it into a lasting flame. Crowned the King of Mangambeu during the 1970s and 80s, Tchakounté’s genius lay in his fearless fusion of old and new. Under his direction, the balafon, sanza, and hand drums of ancestral ceremonies began to share the stage with electric guitars, bass lines, and brass sections. This wasn’t cultural dilution; it was cultural evolution — a reimagining that ensured Mangambeu could live both in village squares and in modern recording studios.

He wasn’t alone. Artists like Daniel Njiké carried the genre beyond Cameroon’s borders, while innovators such as Gapitcha and Jack Djeyim expanded its creative range. Together, they transformed Mangambeu from a local ritual soundtrack into a genre that could speak to communities at home and audiences abroad.

At the genre’s core lies something breathtaking: a polyrhythmic dialogue that distills the essence of African music thought. Picture a steady 4/4 bass line anchoring the sound while percussion dances above it in 3/4 or 6/8. Out of this seeming chaos emerges harmony — a rhythm that is as complex as it is irresistible.

But the power of Mangambeu extends beyond rhythm. In its call-and-response vocals, whole communities are heard as one collective voice before splintering into individual flourishes. Through these voices echo themes of resilience, ancestral memory, and the bonds that hold people together. These aren’t merely songs; they are oral histories carried on the wind of percussion and melody.

As the decades passed, Mangambeu proved itself porous and adaptive, drawing on jazz harmonies, funk grooves, and soul-inflected vocals. Remarkably, these global influences didn’t overwhelm the indigenous pulse — they amplified it, creating what musicologists describe as a “hybrid timbre.” In these arrangements, improvisation could rival that of jazz, while the communal spirit of the dance remained intact.

This ability to remain grounded yet globally resonant is perhaps Mangambeu’s most enduring achievement. Where other traditions may fade when exposed to outside influence, Mangambeu thrives, showing that authenticity does not mean isolation. Instead, it demonstrates that tradition and innovation can move together like dance partners, each one shaping and elevating the other.

Today, Mangambeu continues to occupy a special place in Cameroon’s music space. While it may not have the international fame of makossa or bikutsi, it carries deep cultural weight among the Bamiléké and their diaspora. Ethnomusicologists describe it as a “living archive” — each performance, each recording, each gathering becoming another chapter in an ongoing history.

Across villages in the Western Highlands and diaspora communities worldwide, Mangambeu still fulfills its dual purpose: preserving ancestral traditions while adapting to new sounds. It stands as a reminder that cultural preservation does not require stagnation, and that every performance is both a remembrance and a reinvention.

What can we learn from Mangambeu’s journey — from Dangmi Marie’s unforgettable dance to its global spread? Perhaps that the most authentic cultural expressions are those that root themselves deeply in the past while daring to grow beyond it. In a world where globalization often threatens to flatten difference, Mangambeu shows us another way: a tradition that thrives not by closing itself off, but by inviting the world into its rhythm.

The next time you hear the pulsing conversation of Mangambeu — the 4/4 grounding the 3/4, the ancient intertwined with the modern, the community singing alongside the individual — remember that you are not just listening to music. You are witnessing a living tradition, carrying within it the DNA of a people, the memory of countless ceremonies, and the promise of endless reinvention.

In the Western Highlands of Cameroon and far beyond, the beat still goes on — and Dangmi Marie’s legacy continues to remind us that some performances are so powerful, they don’t just end. They become beginnings.

the power of Mangambeu extends beyond rhythm. In its call-and-response vocals, whole communities are heard as one collective voice before splintering into individual flourishes.

Genre Spotlight: Mangambeu from Cameroon

Though Africa is divided along the country lines into 54 countries, the languages spoken in each region further divide the continent along invisible lines. Unlike the United States of America, where the lingua franca is English, or Latin America, where Spanish and Portuguese dominate, Africa has a more complex linguistic identity. While some primary languages—English, French, Portuguese, and Arabic—are widely spoken due to colonial history, local languages hold a prominent place in the lifestyle, traditions, and, most significantly, in the music of the people.

Music across Africa is more than rhythm and melody, it is an identity card. When artists perform in languages such as Yoruba, Zulu, Swahili, Wolof, Lingala, or Amharic, they do more than entertain. They preserve memory, oral history, proverbs, and cultural philosophy. The tonal qualities and cadences of African languages often shape how a song is written, sung, or played. This is why a Yoruba highlife tune or a Lingala soukous song can be recognized not just by the instruments featured but by how the language itself molds the rhythm. In this sense, language is as much a musical instrument as the drum or guitar.

For artists, choosing a language is often both an artistic and political decision. Singing in a local tongue creates an immediate bond with listeners—it signals recognition and belonging. Tanzanian Bongo Flava stars like Diamond Platnumz and Ali Kiba favor Swahili because it roots their music in the everyday lives of their audiences, ensuring relatability across East Africa. Nigerian Afrobeats musicians such as Burna Boy, Davido, and Wizkid frequently mix English, Pidgin, and indigenous languages like Yoruba or Igbo. In Burna Boy’s hit Ye, listeners move seamlessly through Yoruba, Pidgin, and English, showing how layered linguistic expression can capture both local pride and international attention.

Multilingualism has also become one of African music’s most powerful creative tools. Many songs weave together multiple languages within the same track, adding rhythm and depth. Fela Kuti famously chose Pidgin English as his medium—not only because it captured the spirit of Lagos street life but also because it crossed ethnic barriers, making his politically charged messages accessible to all. More recently, South African DJ Master KG’s global sensation Jerusalema blends Zulu lyrics with house beats, creating a spiritual yet danceable anthem that resonated worldwide, despite many listeners not understanding the words. In Senegal, Youssou N’Dour’s songs in Wolof, like Set, have become both cultural touchstones and political statements, proving how deeply language and music are intertwined.

Far from limiting Africa’s reach, linguistic diversity has helped make its music globally distinctive. Even when audiences cannot grasp the literal meaning, they are drawn to the authenticity and emotion carried by the languages themselves. The global success of Jerusalema, or the rise of Afrobeats and Amapiano, shows that African music’s power lies in sounding unapologetically African. The unfamiliar words spark curiosity, while rhythm and emotion transcend translation. For many global fans, the mystery of the lyrics adds to the allure, setting African genres apart in a world dominated by English-language pop.

In the end, Africa’s multitude of tongues is not a barrier but a wellspring of creativity and identity. Local languages anchor songs in culture and community, while colonial languages open doors to international audiences. Together, they form a canvas where heritage and innovation meet. Every African song—whether sung in Hausa, Shona, Zulu, or Pidgin English—is more than a melody. It is a cultural statement, a keeper of memory, and a declaration that Africa speaks, sings, and unites through its languages.

To truly appreciate how language breathes life into African music, here are a few songs worth exploring:

“Jerusalema” – Master KG ft. Nomcebo Zikode (South Africa) – Sung in Zulu, this gospel-inspired anthem became a global dance phenomenon.

“Ye” – Burna Boy (Nigeria) – A seamless mix of Yoruba, Pidgin English, and English, capturing Nigeria’s multilingual realities.

“Set” – Youssou N’Dour (Senegal) – Performed in Wolof, this song doubled as social commentary and political call to action.

“Wombo Lombo” – Angélique Kidjo (Benin) – Blends Fon with English, reflecting her Pan-African and global reach.

“Sawa Sawa” – Eric Wainaina (Kenya) – Sung in Swahili, it highlights Kenya’s national language and its role in building unity.

“Indépendance Cha Cha” – Joseph Kabasele (DR Congo) – A Lingala classic that became the soundtrack of African independence movements.

These songs remind us that language in African music is not just about words—it is rhythm, history, and identity woven into sound.

In Africa, music and language are inseparable. Every song is more than a melody—it is identity, history, and community expressed through words.