“I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m an Alternative musician, rather a musician with an Alternative eye. I can fit into different spaces, but I also bring a distinct perspective to whatever I create”. — Blinky Bill
By Frank Njugi
From the late 2000s through the early 2010s, the Kenyan collective Just A Band emerged as a cultural touchstone for audiences in the country and beyond. Formed by a multidisciplinary team; musician, and DJ Blinky Bill (Bill Sellanga); graphic designer, Jim Chuchu; filmmaker, Mbithi Masya, and animator Dan Muli, the group stood out for its genre-defying sound, weaving together Soul, Electronica, Pop, House, Funk, Disco, and Hip-Hop into a bold, futuristic aesthetic.
Their first two albums, Scratch to Reveal (2008) and Hey! (2009), are often cited among the most important Kenyan and East African album releases of the 21st century. In 2010, the group made internet history in Kenya with the music video for “Ha-He,” a satirical homage to Blaxploitation cinema. The video, which accompanied a single off the Hey! album, quickly went viral, becoming Kenya’s first truly internet-driven pop culture moment.
In 2016, the members of Just A Band announced a hiatus to pursue individual artistic paths. As the break stretched over the years, Blinky Bill emerged as the most visibly active. As a solo act, he released the We Cut Keys While You Wait EP in 2016, followed by a critically acclaimed solo debut album, Everyone’s Just Winging It and Other Fly Tales, in 2018.
Six years later, in early 2024, he returned again with We Cut Keys 2, a sonically rich and unapologetically bold album that reasserted his position at the forefront of Kenya’s music industry. The project was steeped in an unmistakable sonic blueprint, playful, genre-fluid, and deeply intentional—marking not just a return, but a reaffirmation of artistic inclinations.
When We Cut Keys 2 dropped, the ripples were felt in Afrocritik’s music department and well beyond. It didn’t take long before the album earned its rightful place on our 2024 list of the Top 50 African Music Projects.
Over a year later, as Blinky Bill sat down for an exclusive interview with Afrocritik, the cover art of We Cut Keys 2 leaned quietly against a wall behind him, evoking a retrospective glance. Whether it was simply décor or a deliberate signpost, it felt like a portal into everything our conversation would unravel.
Now, with some distance from the We Cut Keys 2 project, the Nairobi-based artiste has had time to sit with what the album means, both creatively and personally.
“I feel like a lot of my projects are markers of where I am at a particular time,” he starts our conversation by reflecting. “Over the past year since I released it, I’ve come to realise that once I put out a project, I feel free to explore new ideas”.
That sense of liberation seems to have energised both Blinky and his collaborators. “Because of that, I think both myself and everyone who produced on that project really pushed ourselves, not just creatively, but also in how we imagine African music and where we want it to go”.
Listening back to We Cut Keys 2, Blinky Bill hears just how far they were willing to stretch boundaries. “Right now, it feels like African music is in its super Pop phase—a lot of the music out there is very Pop”, he observes. “And while I appreciate artistes who try to do something different, something that doesn’t sound like everything else, I also recognise that we’re in a space where many listeners gravitate toward the familiar”.
It’s a delicate balancing act: innovation versus accessibility. “There’s always this push and pull: how far can we go without alienating people? And at the same time, what’s the minimum threshold we need to maintain so we don’t dilute who we are, or what we’re trying to express?”
Since the album came out, these are the questions Blinky Bill has been sitting with, questions that continue to shape his artistic identity. “I’ve been ruminating on that—on what the middle ground looks like for me. Do I embrace Pop fully? Because sometimes, I do enjoy pop music. I don’t always want to be immersed in music that’s overly cerebral. But as an artiste, I also want to feel like I’m expressing what genuinely inspires me, something that reflects who I am at that moment”.
With We Cut Keys 2, Blinky Bill delivered an album that felt both like a return and a radical leap forward. Sonically fresh, yet undeniably anchored in a signature style. For an artiste often credited as one of the architects of a whole movement, the question naturally arises: was the project a homecoming, or the start of a new departure?
“I think it’s a mix of both,” Blinky shares. “Definitely paying homage to where I’ve come from, but also, as an artiste, I’m always a bit dissatisfied with where I am. I always want to grow”.
This duality, looking back while reaching forward, runs through much of his reflection. Revisiting older tracks has brought new clarity. He reflects on his earlier work with a mix of hindsight and humility. He sometimes wishes he had possessed his current knowledge and experience back then, believing he could have done so much more with those songs. Yet, he also recognises that those early creations were necessary stepping stones. Without them, he knows he wouldn’t have arrived at the point he’s at today.
The tension between the urge to evolve and the weight of legacy sits at the heart of Blinky’s creative process. “I’m often caught in that in-between space, wondering: Are people understanding me? Should they understand me? Should I even care? It’s a constant push and pull”.
His musings extend beyond the personal to a broader reflection on artistry itself. “When I think about artistes like Prince or Stevie Wonder—people who were clearly ahead of their time—it reminds me of the same energy I hear in older African music. For example, take something like K-South Flava. To me, they were so ahead of their time. The music has aged incredibly well”.
There’s pride in his voice when he recalls the impact of his early work with Just A Band. “Honestly, even just thinking about the band—I’m proud of what we did. But with all the knowledge I have now, I can also see where we could’ve improved”.
In many ways, We cut Keys 2 is the manifestation of this artistic paradox. The album serves as both a forward-looking exploration of sonic possibility and a deliberate homage to his roots. Rather than positioning progress and heritage as opposing forces, Blinky Bill framed them as coexisting imperatives in the album, an exercise in creative balance where evolution did not require erasure.
As a founding member of Just A Band, Blinky Bill helped lay the foundation for Kenya’s and East Africa’s Alternative music scene. They were an audacious, genre-defying collective that dared to reimagine what Kenyan sound could be. Looking back now, he sees that era as not just a creative turning point, but a personal one that still informs his later solo projects, including We Cut Keys 2.
“I feel like without Just A Band, I don’t know if I’d still be musically alive,” he admits. “It was, and still is, so fundamental to how I make music and how I see music. Everyone in the group had such a strong influence on me”.
That influence wasn’t just musical. “They’re all such bookworms, so studious about the things they pay attention to. Someone would recommend a movie I’d never even heard of, and then when I’d watch it, I’d be like, Wow, this is so inspiring”.
Surrounded by that kind of curiosity and intellectual energy, Blinky found his mind expanding beyond the familiar. “I’m really grateful to have been surrounded by people and ideas that constantly expanded my sense of what’s possible—that made me see how far the limits can actually stretch. Instead of being confined to just what Kenyans like or are used to, my mind was opened up to ask, What else is there? Where else can we go?”
But even in that collective of forward-thinkers, Blinky Bill carved out a unique role for himself, one he continues to embody in his solo career. His primary contribution to the group lay in his ability to anchor expansive, often abstract ideas, translating them into forms that could resonate with a broader audience.
His approach was a deceptively simple yet vital question: how can complex, high-concept thinking be articulated in ways that meet people where they are? It is a challenge he continues to take seriously. Blinky remains acutely aware of the risks of communicating in ways that are overly abstract or intellectually exclusive. Though he admits uncertainty about whether he has always succeeded. Still, the effort to bridge that gap, to make the conceptual accessible, remains central to his art.
Though Just A Band as a collective, and by extension, Blinky Bill, are frequently cited in the legacy of Kenya’s Alternative music scene, Blinky himself resists the confines of such labels; in an industry increasingly driven by algorithms, formulas, and the race for virality, he is more invested in carving his path defined by experimentation, and a fiercely personal sense of creative identity.
“I wouldn’t necessarily say I’m an Alternative musician, maybe it just seems that way,” he explains. “I think it’s rather more accurate to say I’m a musician with an Alternative eye. I can fit into different spaces, but I also bring a distinct perspective to whatever I create”.
That perspective is one that embraces accessibility without compromising on depth. “When I write music, it’s often very accessible. The lyrics are clear, you can understand them, but they’re layered,” he says. “There are a lot of double entendres, kind of like watching a cartoon where there’s one message for kids and another for adults”.
This layered approach shows up in his production as well. He aims to produce work that matches the quality of those who inspire him. On We Cut Keys 2, he finally got to work with Grammy Award–winning engineers, people operating at a global standard, which had been a longtime dream.
But even while working with international talent, Blinky Bill ensures the music stays rooted in homegrown culture. The sound quality is international, but the essence of the music remains deeply Kenyan. The mix and mastering are all handled by top-tier engineers, yet the soul of it is grounded here at home. That balance, for him, is essential.
His commitment to balance extends to his collaborations, too. He recently did a song with Domani Munga from Wakadinali, one that samples an old East African track. It feels instantly familiar, and the way Domani rides the beat is very Kenyan. But Blinky didn’t want it to sound like just another average Kenyan track. He wanted to push the boundaries, to challenge Domani sonically, and take the sound to a place he might not have gone on his own.
From the genre-warping days of Just A Band to now as a solo artiste, Blinky Bill has long made a career out of being a cultural connector and sonic explorer. He’s collaborated with a wide spectrum of artistes across genres and generations. But when it comes to choosing who he works with, the process isn’t about clout or convenience; it’s about connection.
“A mutual exchange is what I love about collaboration. I want to feel what another’s imagination sounds like. I want an artiste to push me into their world, but at the same time, come into mine”, he says.
This openness to exchange is key, especially when working with artistes who bring not only musical talent but intellectual depth. When Blinky collaborates with someone like M.anifest, it’s more than just a creative partnership; it’s an intellectual exchange. The Ghanaian rapper is not only a close friend but a person Blinky Bill considers one of the most insightful artists on the continent. “Just listening to his interviews, you can tell how smart he is. And when we’re hanging out, we talk about everything from politics to old-school music from Ghana and Kenya. There’s depth there”.
That depth also defines Blinky’s longtime connection with fellow Kenyan trailblazer, Muthoni Drummer Queen. There’s a mutual understanding between them; she has remained a creative who has constantly fought hard to carve out her space in Kenyan music, and he holds deep respect for that.
Not every collaboration, he insists, though, needs to be intellectually rigorous or emotionally weighty. At times, he simply seeks the joy of spontaneity, the freedom to create without the burden of overanalysis. There’s a perception that everything one makes has to be clever or deep, but that’s not Blinky Bill’s belief.
Even in moments of creative play, however, his standards remain non-negotiable. “The kind of sounds that are popular in Kenya right now, sometimes they just don’t give me enough. I need more from the music. So there are things I won’t jump on simply because they don’t feel like me. I hold myself to a standard, and I won’t compromise that”.
This, ultimately, is what defines Blinky’s creative compass when it comes to choosing collaborators. It’s not about numbers or hype. There are big artistes he’ll probably never work with simply because the connection isn’t there. But if he hears someone’s music—big or small—and it moves him, then he’s in. That’s what matters most.
For Blinky Bill, creativity isn’t about settling for what’s expected; it’s about pushing for what’s possible. He argues that Kenya’s artistic landscape would benefit from more creators willing to take bold risks. In his view, there is a pervasive reluctance to venture beyond the familiar, a tendency to prioritise accessibility over experimentation. People want to make music that “everyone will understand,” and that’s a mindset he doesn’t subscribe to.
Still, he acknowledges the balance required. “Sometimes, sure, I’ll simplify things—not to dumb them down, but to be intentional. Think of Bob Marley: his songs were deep, but they weren’t always overcomplicated.”
“And sometimes”, he adds with a laugh, “I go all in and do ‘too much.’ And that’s okay too—because that’s where the growth happens.”
***
Blinky admits that when Just A Band burst onto the scene over a decade and a half ago, they weren’t just creating music—they were building a new language for Kenyan art. Genre-fluid, visually daring, and unapologetically experimental, their arrival was met with praise, confusion, and, often, the label “ahead of their time”. Today, as Blinky Bill stands as one of Africa’s most forward-thinking artistes, he’s uniquely positioned to assess the state of African Music and whether that time has finally come.
“I honestly think some of the most imaginative music right now is coming out of Africa, hands down”, he says. “There are so many incredible artistes doing amazing work, often without access to big resources. And I really respect that; people making something powerful and fresh with what they have. That kind of creativity really moves me”.
Still, his praise comes with caveats. For Blinky Bill, the current landscape is filled with both promise and pitfalls. He often finds himself impressed by the music he encounters—struck by its creativity, its execution, and the context from which it emerges. He genuinely appreciates good work for what it is. Yet, he also feels tension.
While there’s no shortage of talent or fresh ideas, he observes a recurring tendency to prioritise external influences, especially trends from other parts of the continent, over cultivating homegrown originality. In the process, bold and innovative local concepts don’t always get the room they need to grow. A missed opportunity, both creatively and culturally.
That critique isn’t about purism, it’s about growth. “I do find it hard sometimes when I hear a track that’s basically a beat from 20 years ago with nothing changed,” he continues. “Like, sure, the flow might be cool, but I’m left wondering: Where’s your voice? Where’s your sound? What’s going to mark this moment in Kenyan music?”
It’s not that he’s against sampling or nostalgia, far from it. “I respect the technical side, the flow, the delivery, but sometimes I just want more,” Blinky says. Too often, in Kenya, the biggest song follows the same dancehall template, repeating what’s already worked.
What excites him is the idea of disruption. He imagines a moment where an unexpected acoustic track, maybe by someone completely unknown, breaks through and captures the public’s imagination. That kind of surprise, that kind of rupture, is what Blinky Bill believes the Kenyan music industry needs. It’s in those moments, when the expectation is overturned, that the potential for genuine artistic evolution and a broader, more daring East African creative landscape.
This, he says, is all about creating space for the unexpected, like Camp Mulla did over a decade ago. “It was a completely new sound from artistes we hadn’t really heard of before, and it created this massive wave. Props to the artistes who are still doing that now, pushing boundaries. But that first wave? It was really something else”.
He pauses, then adds: “We might not see something like that again for a while, but I really hope that kind of breakout moment is still possible for newer artistes. I want that for them, the space to come through and shift the culture.”
In a lighthearted moment, I joke if this view on external influences resulted in the noticeable absence of any Amapiano log-drums or shakers on We Cut Keys 2. Was it a conscious decision, a quiet rebellion, or simply a matter of taste?
He laughs, then answers with clarity. “I think We Cut Keys 2 was definitely foundational for a lot of my new sound,” he reflects. “But at the same time, I’m always of the mindset that, while I enjoy listening to Amapiano, yeah, I really do, especially when it’s done well; it inspires me in a different way”.
That inspiration, for Blinky Bill, isn’t about mimicry but dialogue. What stands out to him with Amapiano is the funky bassline, a sound element he’s always taken pride in within his own music. Basslines are a trademark for him. But when someone from South Africa reaches out or engages with him, he doesn’t want to respond by simply sending back an Amapiano track. He wants to bring something else to the table, something uniquely representative of where he’s coming from.
His creed is clear: influence should lead to introspection, not imitation. They’ve inspired him, but in a way that pushes him to reflect his own culture rather than copy theirs. Even though he might currently have an unreleased Amapiano track, which he could drop, but feels that would be a bit of a cop-out. He could do it, yes, but it wouldn’t fully align with what he wants to contribute.
He draws comparisons to other genre-defying innovators. “When I listen to Afrobeats, or older Busta Rhymes or Missy Elliott, people who were super innovative, they don’t make me want to copy their sound. They inspire me to innovate in my own context”.
And in that spirit, he’s more likely to look to Kenya’s rich musical legacy as a foundation. When Blinky talks about his relationship with genres like Amapiano, it’s clear he approaches them with intention, not imitation. He’s not interested in copying a sound just because it’s trending. Instead, he sees it as an invitation, a spark. The energy of Amapiano inspires him, but rather than reproducing it, he wants to translate that feeling into something that speaks to where he’s from. For him, that means drawing from genres such as ohangla, drawing from the rhythms of his own culture to create something new.
His goal, ultimately, is cultural conversation, not replication. “When I talk to someone from South Africa, I want to be able to say, ‘What you did was incredible—and it inspired me to create this, from my home.’ That, to me, is the real exchange”.
In conversation with Blinky Bill, it’s impossible not to feel the constant tug-of-war between realism and hope. A veteran of Kenya’s music scene and a cultural bellwether in his own right, he has long championed East Africa’s quiet power, often overlooked, but never lacking in brilliance.
When asked to unpack a quote from a previous interview, where he described East Africa as the next musical frontier, he reflects, “East Africa hasn’t really had its proper moment in the spotlight—at least not in the way other regions on the continent have, musically.”
And he’s not wrong. The Congolese have had their time; their music is instantly recognisable. The same goes for South Africa, whose influence has stretched across generations. Nigeria, Ghana, Mali, Cameroon, Senegal —these countries have all enjoyed periods of dominance in the African music scene, buoyed by global recognition and strong continental support.
East Africa, by contrast, has offered rich, diverse, and deeply influential contributions, but they’ve often been treated as fleeting. There have been moments, yes. Snippets. But never that extended era when the spotlight stayed fixed.
Still, Blinky Bill’s outlook holds firm in a cautious kind of optimism. He remains hopeful. Hopeful that someone will eventually emerge from the region and create something powerful enough to capture the continent’s imagination. He draws inspiration from artistes who’ve defined entire eras—Fela Kuti, Salif Keita, Sampha—figures whose musical influence is undeniable.
In Kenya, and East Africa more broadly, there are those who have pushed boundaries and carried the flag forward. But that defining moment of continental celebration—the moment that says, “Yes, this is your time”—has yet to arrive.
So, when Blinky calls East Africa the “next frontier”, it’s not just a prediction, it’s a quiet call to action. “I don’t know if it’s definitely going to happen, but I believe in what we’re doing now—collectively—as a musical cohort. I think it’s possible.”
Part of what sets the region apart, for him, is the spirit of generosity in its listeners. There is something striking about the way Kenyans engage with music beyond their borders: a genuine and consistent enthusiasm. His voice softens slightly as he says, “And I just feel like we deserve that kind of love in return. We deserve that moment where someone, somewhere else, is in our comment sections saying, ‘Yo, I’m from wherever, and I’m completely tapped into what’s happening in Kenya’”.
He himself has been discovering gems from other under-recognised regions too. “Recently, I’ve been listening to some incredible music from Sudan, and it makes me wonder, will they have their moment too? I hope so,” he says. “Because I believe there’s so much brilliance across the continent that’s yet to be fully recognised”.
***
Blinky Bill recently received the Nina Simone artistic Excellence Award at the 20th Anniversary of the Young, Gifted & Black Awards in New York. A moment he admits didn’t just sparkle—it slowed him down. For an artiste constantly moving forward, eyes fixed on the next creative evolution, the recognition offered rare stillness.
And though accolades can often feel ceremonial, this one hit deeper. It wasn’t about validation from the industry machine—it felt more personal, almost spiritual. Blinky admits he’s not always the best at acknowledging what he’s done or the impact he’s had on the scene.
He’s often focused on the next thing, the next goal. But in that moment, he was forced to pause and reflect: Yo, it’s not in vain. There are people who see the work he’s done, who admire it. And he knows he needs to give himself more credit for that, more props than he usually does.
There’s a soft ache in his voice as he describes what it’s like being an artiste in Kenya, where brilliance often moves in silence and rarely gets the volume it deserves. It can feel, he says, like being in a forest, shouting and hoping someone hears you, like no one’s really listening or paying attention.
That quiet neglect isn’t new. In our conversation, Blinky points to Ayub Ogada, the late Kenyan nyatiti master whose music was barely amplified at home but found international acclaim—posthumously, even—after Kanye West sampled his famous song, “Kothbiro”. “I hardly ever heard his music on Kenyan radio. Maybe just once—in an ad”, Blinky recalls. “But then he gets sampled by Kanye West, and suddenly it’s like, ‘Wow.’ And I’m thinking, we should have been celebrating him all along. That moment of recognition shouldn’t come only from outside”.
It’s a pattern he knows too well, the way Kenyan artistry is often underestimated or brushed aside until it gets foreign approval. Sometimes, it feels like the truly unique work coming out of Kenya is taken for granted. There’s a tendency to treat what’s special as if it were ordinary, as if anyone could have made it. This mindset undermines artistry and also dulls the sense of pride and possibility that should surround artistic innovation.
In receiving an award named after Nina Simone, whose legacy was deeply rooted in radical honesty and musical resistance, Blinky Bill felt a powerful affirmation, not just of his artistry, but of his commitment to doing things differently. “It reminded me that I’ve put in the work. I’ve built something. And I do deserve that recognition.”
***
As we had begun this conversation by reflecting on how We Cut Keys 2 shook the room and bent expectations, to conclude I ask, ‘ So, what’s next after We Cut Keys 2? Where does Blinky Bill go after stirring the Kenyan and African sonic cosmos?’
“I’ve got a couple of tracks going into the deluxe version of We Cut Keys 2,” he says, a thrill in his voice. “A few more collaborations, one from West Africa, two from South Africa. I really want to expand those cross-continental connections and conversations. And yeah, the process is coming along well.”
But more than a deluxe rollout, what’s taking shape is the outline of a new era, a new sound, still unboxed and undaunted. Blinky has begun sketching out what his next sonic chapter will be, and that process fills him with excitement. He knows he couldn’t have reached this point without first making We Cut Keys 2. For Blinky, every album is like a graduation. Once it’s out, it’s no longer his, it belongs to the world.
There is a sense of ritual, of each project being a rite of passage, that runs deep in Blinky’s art. And also, behind the grooves and future funk lies a team of obsessives. “My team and I are total music nerds,” he grins. Take “Dracula”, a track that samples Kenyan legends, Les Mangelepa. “We were so proud of how we flipped that. It’s the kind of beat I’d play for Damian Marley or even Kanye West and say, ‘What’s your interpretation of this?’ Even without my vocals on it, it holds.”
Still, the joy of creation sometimes meets the ache of obscurity. “You put that kind of work out into the world, and you realise something kind of sad: a lot of us don’t know our older Kenyan music well enough to recognise it when it’s been reimagined.”
It’s not nostalgia he’s chasing, it’s cultural excavation. If he were to sample a renowned old Kenyan song like “Sina Makosa”, it would instantly resonate; its familiarity would guarantee recognition. But that’s not the path that interests Blinky. He’s far more drawn to the overlooked corners of Kenya’s musical archive, to the under-celebrated tracks that haven’t been played to exhaustion. His creative impulse leans toward unearthing these hidden gems, and showcasing the depth and diversity of a country’s soundscape that can extend far beyond the well-known classics.
This depth of vision isn’t always met with equal infrastructure. “When artistes like Tyler, the Creator sample Zambian rock, and it goes viral—it’s like, we weren’t wrong. We were just early.” The difference, he says, is machinery. “When you have major labels and money pushing your idea, people take time to notice. But for independent artistes like us, even if we’re doing something just as innovative, it might fly under the radar.”
Blinky Bill’s mission here is clear: create without compromise, and innovate within culture, not outside of it. “A lot of the African music being pushed now sits in the Pop space. That’s cool. But there’s also a ton of imaginative, culture-rooted, genre-bending stuff out here, and I think it’s important we shine a light on that too.”
And shine, he does—sometimes quietly, sometimes defiantly, always ahead of the curve. As for that next seismic shift? That is something he is actively building in real time .“We were absolutely right from the start,” he says. “And we’re just getting started”.
Frank Njugi is an Award-winning Kenyan Writer, Culture journalist and Critic who has written on the East African and African culture scene for platforms such as Debunk Media, Republic Journal, Sinema Focus, Culture Africa, Drummr Africa, The Elephant, Wakilisha Africa, The Moveee, Africa in Dialogue, Afrocritik and others. He tweets as @franknjugi.