The morning after the Grammy Awards has become a recurring ritual of collective heartbreak for the Nigerian music industry. Once again, social media is a digital war zone. The 30BG camp is in shambles, screaming “robbery” into the void because Davido—the “Landlord” of Afrobeats—returned from Los Angeles empty-handed while Tyla secured her second consecutive win.
An avid tracker of the industry from the era of Alaba mixtapes to the global streaming boom, will definitely find this outrage exhausting. It is time for a cold, hard look at the reality of the situation: The Grammys didn’t “rob” us. They simply behaved exactly like the Western institution they are. The problem isn’t the Recording Academy’s voting; the problem is our desperate, almost pathological need for their approval.
The fury from Davido’s fanbase stems from a place of deep cultural loyalty, but it is musically short-sighted within the context of an American award show. In the 30BG universe, Davido “deserved” the award because he is a pillar of the culture, because of his decade-long consistency, and because of the sheer weight of his brand.
However, the Recording Academy does not vote on “legacy,” “hustle,” or who has the most loyal fanbase in Lagos. They vote on specific recordings within a specific eligibility window. To a voter in Idaho or New York, Davido is a formidable African star, but Tyla is a global pop phenomenon, who also happens to be African!
To the Academy, Tyla is the perfect “Global African” prototype. Her sound, a polished, Pop-leaning interpolation of Amapiano, is designed for Western palates. It is safe, it is rhythmic, and it fits neatly into a Spotify “Today’s Top Hits” playlist. When we pit a core Afrobeats record against a song engineered for global pop dominance, the Grammys will choose the pop-star aesthetic every single time.
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If we look at the history of the “Global Music” categories, a pattern emerges that Nigerian artists refuse to acknowledge. The Academy has a specific, often patronizing mindset regarding what “authentic” African music should sound like.
Remember the 2022 sting when Angélique Kidjo’s Mother Nature won Best Global Music Album over Wizkid’s Made in Lagos? Wizkid had delivered a cultural reset, a sophisticated, mid-tempo masterpiece that defined the global sound of that year. Yet, the Academy pivoted to Kidjo. Why? Because Mother Nature checked the boxes of what the West thinks Africa is: socio-political, traditional, and “spiritually” conscious. It was “Kumbaya” Africa, a version that feels educational and safe to a Western voter.
When our artists lean into luxury, street-hop, or the “Pangolo” commercial sounds that actually move the needle on the continent, they are often overlooked in favor of music that feels like a National Geographic soundtrack. Tyla is the modern evolution of this: she is the “safe” version of the continent—palatable, pretty, and perfectly aligned with Western pop sensibilities. With these people, there is no predicting.
The most heartbreaking aspect of this Grammy obsession is the total disregard for our own institutions. We have spent years devaluing the Headies, AFRIMA, and the Soundcity MVP Awards, treating them like “participation trophies” while treating a gold-plated gramophone like a divine decree.
This creates a dangerous power dynamic. When we treat the Headies as “local” and the Grammys as “international,” we are essentially saying that African ears are not qualified to judge African excellence. If we don’t respect our own platforms, why should an American academy respect us?
We have seen artists skip their own national award shows only to fly fifteen hours to sit in the back row of a Staples Center audience, hoping for a 30-second shout-out. This “beggar” mentality informs how the Grammys treat us—as a niche category to be acknowledged briefly before moving back to the “real” awards.
True iconism isn’t granted by a committee of voters in Los Angeles who likely couldn’t find Osun State on a map. It is built in the clubs of Lagos, the stadiums of Johannesburg, and the streets of London and New York where the fans, not the critics, decide what is legendary.
The Grammys are a business. They are interested in Afrobeats right now because it is “trendy” and brings in numbers. But the moment the “Global” trend shifts to another region, they will move on. If we haven’t built and sustained our own structures of validation by then, we will be left with nothing but old nomination plaques and a sense of “what if.”
In case 30BG are still seething from the loss of their president, Tyla didn’t “rob” anyone. Her numbers were gargantuan, and her music bridged the gap between Johannesburg and Hollywood in a way the Academy finds irresistible.
Nigerian artists need to wake up. The Grammys are not the ultimate metric of iconism. They are a Western business. Until we learn to value the “Standard” set in Lagos over the “Validation” sought in L.A., we will continue to find ourselves “angry” at an institution that was never built for us in the first place.
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