Today, music videos in Afro-Pop no longer mainly serve to reach new audiences. Instead, they function as tools to create a stronger emotional connection with the artiste’s creative vision.
By Abioye Damilare Samson
The recent debates around the role of music videos in the way artistes release and promote their songs have garnered a lot of attention and strong opinions. Earlier in August, Nigerian music video director, The Alien Visuals, made a series of tweets on X (formerly Twitter) that sparked conversation about the relevance of visuals in Afro-Pop: “Also!! Music videos are NOT dead. Music videos are NOT ‘just vibes.’ They’re branding tools. They’re cultural weapons. They’re legacy pieces. Miss me with that ‘the song is not big, so I won’t do a big video’ talk. Music videos are NOT dead”, he tweeted, a firm pushback against the notion that music videos have lost their importance.
Several months prior, in April, renowned music video director, Adasa Cookey, captured the shifting dynamics of what music videos mean for Afro-Pop with stark clarity: “Music Videos used to blow up songs. But now it’s the songs that blow up music videos. So spend your budget on marketing the song instead. Great short-form visual content is enough. Music videos mostly serve as artiste branding tools”, he tweeted. It was a surprising post, given that it came from someone whose career is built on music visuals. But if we take together these nuanced perspectives from two respected music video directors, it illuminates the fundamental transformation reshaping how the industry approaches visual content as an evolution that demands a new understanding.
Clearly, the timing of this debate is no coincidence. As streaming platforms reshape how we consume music and social media fragments our attention spans, the very purpose of music videos has come under scrutiny. Yet, to understand the true cultural weight of the conversation about the place of music videos in Afro-Pop—and why The Alien Visuals’ and Adasa Cookey’s tweets resonated so deeply—one must trace the arc of Nigerian music’s visual evolution, from the pioneering days of music television to our current digital-first reality.
The Golden Age of Music Television
By the early to late 1990s, Nigerian music was becoming increasingly visual. With the launch of Channel O in 1997 and the growing reach of music television across Africa, music videos became a key avenue for artistes to showcase performance, fashion, and storytelling, while offering fans a more immersive experience. During this period, artistes began experimenting with narrative, choreography, and cinematic techniques, collectively laying the groundwork for the high-production visuals that would define Afro-Pop in the years to come.
By the turn of the millennium, Nigerian music videos began to carve out a distinct cultural power. One of the defining moments came in 1999 with Tony Tetuila’s “Omode Meta Sere”, which featured the then-R&B group, Plantashun Boyz, and the now-disbanded Ruff Rugged & Raw crew. Aimed squarely at Eedris Abdulkareem following Tetuila’s split from The Remedies, the song became a cultural flashpoint, and effectively, the video carried the energy of the feud beyond the music itself, but that’s an entirely different story.
Moving into the mid-2000s, music videos had grown even more ambitious. MTV Base officially launched as a pan-African music channel on February 22, 2005, with Nigerian audiences tuning in to see the first video aired on the channel, which happened to be the iconic “African Queen” by 2Face Idibia.
Around the same period, Gino’s “No Be God”, directed by Wudi Awa, redefined the perception of Nigerian Hip-Hop visuals. The video was polished, cinematic, and widely regarded as one of the best of its time. It also earned Wudi Awa recognition from MTV, which listed him among Africa’s rising cinematographers, and went on to win Best Special Effect (Musical Video) at the Annual Award for Musical Excellence in Nigeria (AMEN), organised by Encomium Ventures in 2007.
The arrival of homegrown music channels further expanded the landscape. HIP TV launched in 2007, followed by Soundcity on DSTV around 2009, and provided Nigerian artistes with more opportunities to showcase high-quality visuals to a growing audience and solidifying music videos as a central part of Afro-Pop culture. The launch of YouTube in Nigeria in 2011 was another pivotal moment. Still, widespread adoption was slow because, at the time, internet penetration remained limited, internet subscription was expensive, and smartphones capable of streaming videos smoothly were still uncommon in the country.
Meanwhile, the Nigerian music duo, P-Square, were raising the bar for Afro-Pop with music videos which offered fans a new level of spectacle and performance. Their visuals—marked by colourful outfits, featured performers, and tightly coordinated choreography—became inseparable from their music. It marked a moment when visuals began to set higher standards for how Nigerian music was consumed and appreciated, thanks to Ayo Shoniaya, Clarence Peters, Sesan, Jude Engees Okoye, DJ Tee, Akin Alabi, and many others who contributed to the visual evolution of Nigerian music videos and, by extension, the growth of the industry.
The Great Pivot: How Streaming Changed the Game
However, technological advancements and shifts in media consumption have changed this landscape over the years. Today, music videos in Afro-Pop no longer mainly serve to reach new audiences. Instead, they function as tools to create richer experiences and a stronger emotional connection with the artiste’s creative vision.
Popular music journalist and pop culture critic, Ayomide Tayo, sees this transformation as a shift in format rather than importance. “Music videos still play an important role in terms of fan engagement, but not in the traditional format we think of. Gone are the days of the big-budget music videos (Psquare and co) with official premieres on TV stations”, he says. “In today’s world, DIY, low-budget videos optimised for social media platforms (Instagram and TikTok) are the thing. They are cheaper, and fan engagement is instantaneous. This type of music video performs better when it comes to breaking new records and artistes in today’s world”.
This shift, however, has been accelerated by the sharp decline in attention spans for video content. Some reports suggest that the average human attention span has dropped to 8.25 seconds in 2025, down from 9.2 seconds in 2022. Even on mobile, users spend barely 1.7 seconds deciding whether to watch a clip or scroll past.
Unsurprisingly, the rise of short-form platforms like TikTok and YouTube Shorts reflects this reality. TikTok, in particular, thrives on videos under 15 seconds, while viewer retention drops sharply with longer content. For artistes and directors, it presents a dilemma: how do you compete for attention without losing the depth that gives a video its meaning?
For some industry players, the answer lies in rethinking what counts as a music video altogether. As entertainment consultant and journalist, Adeayo Adebiyi, notes, “People who used to go to YouTube to interact with music now use TikTok and Audiomack. Short-form content on TikTok also converts faster and serves as a primary marketing tool”.
This platform migration reflects changing consumption habits and a fundamental restructuring of how visual content creates value in the music ecosystem. You see this ethos in the work of fast-rising acts like FirstKlaz who understands how to wield short-form visuals as an extension of his sound with storytelling, playful narrative twists, and inventive framing that keep viewers gripped.
For other industry players, the value of music videos is not reduced to marketing metrics. When I asked music executive and creative director, Emmanuel Oke, (Emaxee) how the purpose of Nigerian music videos has changed in the streaming and TikTok era, his response frames music videos as pure extensions of artistry.
In his view, a music video is an opportunity for musicians to translate sound into image and to give form to the visions they already sketch in their heads while writing. This is why a TikTok challenge or an Instagram clip, however effective at sparking virality, cannot quite be a substitute for the cinematic sprawl of a music video.
The line between promotion and expression also shapes Adeayo’s thoughts about music videos. He argues that videos have slipped from the centre of the marketing machine to its edges. “Music videos are becoming an addition to the marketing process rather than a central part of it”, he says, pointing out how established stars no longer rely on them to cement identity or secure hits, while younger artists lean into cheaper formats—visualisers, short-form clips—that communicate just enough brand and imagery to keep fans interested. At the heart of his observation is the blunt reality of economics, as the industry now prioritises efficiency and direct engagement over lavish productions.
Taken together, these perspectives from industry insiders reveal an important truth that music videos are no longer the defining measure of a hit. No case study illustrates this evolution better than Wizkid, the leading figure in global Afro-Pop.
Once at the forefront of an era where every smash hit demanded its own glossy video, Wizkid’s 2024 album, Morayo, which featured 16 tracks, didn’t produce as many music videos as expected. Of its many songs, only two: “Piece of My Heart” with Brent Faiyaz, and the upbeat hit track “Kese” were given the full music video treatment.
Tellingly, the numbers for these Wizkid tracks illustrate the changing patterns of music consumption. For instance, as of the time of writing this essay, “Kese” has received 7.6 million views on YouTube and over 66 million streams on Spotify. Likewise, “Piece Of My Heart” has reached 12 million video views on YouTube and over 65 million Spotify streams.
More than anything, these figures show that streaming platforms have become the main way people consume music, while music videos now serve a more specific purpose. Although Wizkid’s restrained approach to video production recently has frustrated some diehard fans, many of whom hold the misconception that not releasing videos means he isn’t promoting his music; in reality, it reflects a keen understanding of today’s music landscape.
Emerging acts, too, are showing just how much the game has changed. Songs now gain traction or become hits way before a single frame of a video drops. Fido’s “Joy Is Coming”, for example, debuted on December 14, 2024, yet its official music video didn’t arrive until May 15, 2025. Similarly, Monaky’s “Chandelier”, released on November 8, 2024, waited until May 16, 2025, for a proper video.
Such delays might have stifled a song’s momentum in the earlier music video landscape. Today, however, both tracks thrived through streaming platforms, social media, and curated playlists long before their visuals appeared months later.
The New Rules: Music Videos as Cultural Currency and Brand-Building Instruments
Content and communications specialist, Jerry Chiemeke, offers a nuanced perspective on this trend, and emphasises that visual elements remain vital even when traditional music videos are delayed. He notes that artistes often release visualisers or lyric videos on YouTube to maintain momentum while official videos are still in production.
Chiemeke points to Patapa’s 2017 hit “One Corner” as a case in point, explaining that waiting nine months to release the official video caused much of the audience’s excitement to dissipate. According to him, had the visuals arrived sooner, the track might have evolved from a viral moment into a fully realised cultural movement. Chiemeke’s observation suggests that while the format may have changed, the timing and strategic use of visuals remain critical to maximising a song’s cultural impact.
At the same time, new technology has created competition for traditional music videos while allowing for innovative production methods. Visualisers now frequently replace music videos on streaming platforms. These simple visuals serve the practical purposes that elaborate music videos once did, giving viewers visual stimulation without the artistic complexity. Meanwhile, advancements in artificial intelligence and new production technologies have made sophisticated visual effects accessible to independent artistes while pushing established directors to explore creative boundaries.
Beyond marketing considerations, contemporary music videos serve as powerful cultural statements extending a song’s meaning as Chiemeke illustrates with examples like Davido’s “10 Kilo”, which celebrates plus-sized women stepping out in style while tipping a hat to the late Sound Sultan’s old track “Orobo”, and Falz’s Fuji-inspired hit “No Less”, which pays homage to Owambe culture. In both cases, the visuals elevate the music into broader expressions of identity and representation.
This approach finds a vivid example in Asake’s meteoric rise in 2022. His collaboration with director, TG Omori, captured the full potential of what a music video can achieve. Beyond the hypnotic crowd vocals or the zestful delivery of his verses with urban slang, Asake’s videos became highly anticipated moments that invited fans deeper into his artistic world.
TG Omori’s radiant, surreal palette, inventive choreography, and psychedelic imagery matched Asake’s energetic performances, which created visuals that demanded repeat viewings, revealed new details with each watch, and in turn enriched fans’ connection to both the music and the artiste himself.
For all the changes in how music is consumed, music videos in today’s Afro-Pop landscape have fundamentally transformed from their earlier significance. In essence, this evolution does not diminish the significance of music videos; rather, it refines their purpose from broad-reaching discovery tools to create richer experiences that engage both devoted fans and casual listeners, while opening multiple pathways to connect with the music and the artistes’ vision.
Abioye Damilare Samson is a music journalist and culture writer focused on the African entertainment industry. His works have appeared in Afrocritik, Republic NG, NATIVE Mag, Culture Custodian, 49th Street, and more. Connect with him on Twitter and IG: @Dreyschronicle