10 Years Ago, Wizkid’s “Ojuelegba” Set the Tone for Afrobeats' Global Appeal

In 2014, Wizkid was in an uneasy spot. Just over two years after delivering a debut album for the ages with Superstar, he craved more independence over his career, but he was still contractually tied to the label that played an integral role in his breakout. It was no secret, the young superstar fanned the embers of a heated exchange with the proprietors of Empire Mates Entertainment (EME), which included the popular singer (and sometimes rapper) Banky W.

On several occasions, Wizkid tweeted a storm, often with thinly veiled missives. There was speculation that he wanted to renegotiate terms of his contract—a two-album 360 deal—while there were also reports that he simply wanted to buy out the contract. Understandably, EME would not budge. An artist firmly on the path to being the most defining music-maker of his generation wasn’t an asset any sensible label would easily give up. Wizkid had to turn in his second album under EME.

Ayo, the singer’s eponymous sophomore album which just marked a decade since its release, is an indulgent affair that largely captures the exuberance of living on a high. Amidst the tussle with EME, Wizkid was determined to go out with a bang, and he stuffed in as much party-ready hit songs as he could, like “On Top Your Matter” and “Show You the Money.”

What emerged, though, as the centerpiece of the album was “Ojuelegba,” a ruminative track that stands out as arguably the most affecting song Wizkid has ever released. In a project that emphasized loudness, even on poignant moments like “Mummy Mi” and “Joy,” both odes to his mother, the balminess of “Ojuelegba” was immediately refreshing. More than that, its significance as a touchstone of modern Nigerian pop negates any chatter that Afrobeats can’t be uplifting.

Nigerian pop music in the early to mid-2010s wasn’t exactly known for its depth, but a defining quality of the times was that artists knew how essential it was to capture a varying range of feelings, some more than others. There was no room for ambivalence because, even if a song was lyrically incoherent and just all about the vibes, it was always clear what the artists wanted to achieve. Wizkid’s music, even at its most lurid, was a great example—see “In My Bed.”

On “Ojuelegba,” arguably the most profound part is where Wizkid sings, “I can’t explain,” the final word dragged out for emphasis. It’s a loaded line that encapsulates the gratitude at the heart of the song, because many people from the part of Lagos Wizkid references don’t have a clear path to reaching their dreams. It’s not a unique position, it’s familiar to the majority of Nigerians and anyone in the world who can relate to what it means to find your bearings without a clear compass.

Wizkid’s lines are plain but delivered with soul. Paired with breezy production—that included a melodic riff replayed from a seminal rap song from frequent collaborators and producer duo Legendury Beatz—the song is a warm haze of blissful inspiration. “Ojuelegba” celebrated how far Wizkid had come from being a teenage studio rat at the well-known Mo’Dogg Studios to commanding the attention of millions with his music.

In addition to his deference to his mother, there’s an admonishment for listeners to put their faith in God. That extra layer of spirituality casts “Ojuelegba” as a part-street-pop song, because if there’s anything people from hoods across Lagos are unanimous about, it’s that it takes the favor of the Higher Being to go from zero to a hundred. Wizkid’s nudges to “call on baba God” for answered prayers happened years before Seyi Vibez would sing“everything on God, e go make everything concur.”

“Ojuelegba” has an aspirational bent, but its superpower lies in how widely relatable it is. It’s a grass to grace treatise that captured, and still continues to capture, the hearts of listeners regardless of which area of the spectrum they’re on in their journey. That kind of profoundness is eternal.

According to Spotify, “Ojuelegba” crossed 50 million streams on the streaming platform in April this year, and thousands of listeners still play the classic hit every month, with top streaming countries being the U.S., the U.K., Nigeria, Netherlands and Canada—a wide range that shows “Ojuelegba” as a pioneering crossover hit in the ‘Afrobeats to the World’ movement. It took almost four years for the song to reach 10 million streams, which means it has garnered an average of over 6.5 million streams per year since 2018, an indicator of its undiminished quality.

When Drake and Skepta dropped inspired verses on their remix for the track about a year after it originally dropped, it was at a time when the global recognition for Afrobeats was still fringe. Collaborations with western artists were novelties, so it was a huge moment that the biggest rap artist of his generation, at the commercial peak of his powers, was on an Afrobeats song. Beyond the initial stun of that remix, Drake and Skepta appearing on a song titled after one of the most chaotic areas in Lagos showed that specificity and authenticity can find universal admiration.

“Ojuelegba” and its remix projected the potential for Afrobeats to touch every part of the world, which is the point where we are. Away from the chatter about nominal descriptions that have characterized the expansion of Nigerian and African pop music, Wizkid’s seminal hit felt and continues to feel incredibly pure. It wasn’t a blueprint as much as it was a marker of the possibility of the greatness that can emerge from the crucible of chaos.

Considering the buoyant nature of the song, it would have been easy to infer that Wizkid made “Ojuelegba” in a moment of comfort. However, knowing the context that powered his second album, it’s an urgent recollection of where he’s coming from. Very often, the best way to beat being jaded is to embrace gratitude. It’s a lesson that has reverberated for 10 years, and will continue to do so for another 100 years.