“My new album is like a new advancement of art. If Madina to the Universe can be said to envision my artistry from a macro perspective, New Road and Guava Trees is a micro outlook” – M.anifest
By Emmanuel ‘Waziri’ Okoro
I’ve always been fascinated by the stock market. There’s a thrill in watching a stock climb to new heights, knowing you read the signals, studied the charts, and invested at the right time. Of course, there’s also the risk of watching your investment plummet. But one thing is certain: there are always early adopters and latecomers.
This phenomenon, oddly enough, also extends into music, and mirrors how fans connect with musical artistes. Those who discover an act in their formative years, witnessing their rise through every hurdle to fame, often claim a sense of pride that newer fans–who discovered them at the height of their fame–can’t replicate. Now seeing heavy usage on social media, particularly on platforms like X, phrases like ‘I bought her stocks early on’ are often used to distinguish diehard, longtime supporters from newcomers.
I bring up this analogy, during an exclusive virtual interview with M.anifest, one of Ghana’s and Africa’s most prolific Hip-Hop artistes. The occasion? The release of his sixth studio album, New Road and Guava Trees, this year. When I tell him I was probably a ‘late investor’ to his come up, he chuckles and says, better late than ever. I take comfort in that, because M.anifest has proven over the years that his music and artistry transcend timelines.
Born Kwame Ametepee Tsikata, M.anifest–or M. Dot, as he’s fondly called—comes from a family steeped in intellectual and artistic excellence. His father, Tsatsu Tsikata, is a renowned lawyer and academic, while his mother, Rev. Dr. Priscilla Naana Nketia, hails from a lineage of cultural giants. Perhaps one of his earliest connections to music traces back to his maternal grandfather, J. H. Kwabena Nketia, regarded as one of the pioneers of African musicology.
Since M.anifest’s come-up in the mid-2000s, the lyricist has risen through the ranks to become one of the continent’s greatest rappers of his generation. Now, with the release of his sixth studio album and ninth project overall, despite critical and commercial success, he finds himself in a state of gratitude. “I’m so grateful, first and foremost,” he reflects. “If you had told me ten or even fifteen years ago that I’d be this inspired, I would’ve said, ‘Nah, I’ll be retired by then.’ It’s exciting because whenever I craft an album, it opens new doors. I’m ready to see more of the globe, but more importantly, I’m ready for the music to see more of the globe than I ever could”.
The Weight of a Name
One of the most striking features of music albums is their titles. Like book titles, album titles carry the unusual responsibility to prep minds beforehand. Album titles like Kanye West’s My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, Janelle Monae’s Dirty Computer, Fela Kuti’s Teacher Don’t Teach Me Nonsense, Show Dem Camp’s Clone Wars IV: These Buhari Times reflect most of the themes explored in the project. For instance, Dirty Computer, regarded as Monae’s magnum opus, is a statement on queerness and individuality, themes that society considers to be abnormal, dirty, or ‘bugs’. Likewise, Clone Wars IV: These Buhari Times immortalises Nigeria’s socio-political climate under its former president.
M.anifest approaches his album titles with a similar intentionality, wanting them to read like incredible novels. And beyond what inspired them, he needed them to have a nice ring to it as a statement piece. The primary trigger for New Road and Guava Trees was that at this point in his career–after rising to the ranks of Hip-Hop royalty on the continent–he felt like it was about time he explored a ‘new road’.
Informed by the wisdom of hindsight, the project offers an eagle-eyed reflection on his journey thus far. The “guava tree” symbolises a fruitful climb, but its inspiration is also deeply personal. Growing up near Madina New Road in Ghana, M.anifest recalls a guava tree near his residence that he would often climb—and occasionally fall from.
This blend of personal history and metaphorical resonance ties into the essence of Sankofa, a Twi phrase from the Akan tribe that means “to retrieve things and moments of value from our knowledge of the past”. As M.anifest puts it, it’s about “returning [to the past] to move forward”.
This thematic exploration feels like a continuation of his previous album, Madina to the Universe, a point I bring up during the conversation. He elaborates: “My new album is like a new advancement of art. If Madina to the Universe can be said to envision my artistry from a macro perspective, New Road and Guava Trees is a micro outlook”.
Another striking aspect of the album is its cover, stylised to resemble the commissioning of a new road. M.anifest, dressed as a West African politician, stands surrounded by high-profile figures and construction workers, poised to cut a ribbon. Noticeably, everyone is suspended mid-air, standing on a sliced guava fruit. It is an excellent and thought-provoking choice for a cover, which reveals the intentionality behind the album. As music journalist, Hope Ibiale, once put it, “An album cover acts as the visual bait, sparking curiosity, conveying mood, and often hinting at the sonic journey that lies within”.
For M.anifest, art is a multilayered experience, and he has always been drawn to art at its highest level–a collaboration in multiple fields. Though music is his primary medium, he sees art as inherently mixed-media and multidisciplinary. From the beginning of his career, M.anifest envisioned marrying sonic and visual media, but it wasn’t until the release of his 2016 album, Nowhere Cool, that he fully realised this vision. “Since then, I’ve made sure to deliver a spectacular visual experience because that’s part of what I love,” he explains. “I want to see my album cover and feel excited because it tells a story. I want it to feel like an art piece you could see in a gallery. I want it to be a point of discussion itself”.
It is at this point of discussion that my power gets interrupted, plunging my dining table into total darkness, save for the glow of my laptop screen. M.anifest notices immediately and asks, “Did the light just go off?” When I confirm, he bursts out laughing. I join in, even as I apologise and implore him to bear with me while I scramble for an alternative power source. I can’t help but feel that, thanks to the infamous sibling rivalry between our home countries, M.anifest has just scored another point in the never-ending Nigeria vs. Ghana online banter.
New Road and Guava Trees
With such weightiness and personal ties underpinning the project, New Road and Guava Trees rises to the occasion. Its 14-track offering, with a runtime just shy of 40 minutes, delivers a meticulous exploration of love, socio-economic commentary, rediscovery, and self-elevation. Even more, the album treats listeners to a potluck of diverse soundscapes: from the jazz-tinged “Eye Red”, the Highlife-infused “Puff Puff”, to the Alte-mashed “Gye Nyame and Vibes” and the mid-tempo Afro-Pop “Hang My Boots”. While the album has something for everyone, the songs tie together artistically in a cohesive manner.
Perhaps this cohesion may stem, in part, from the nature of the features on the album. The Cavemen, Flea (of Red Hot Chili Peppers), A-Reece, King Promise, Bien (Sauti Soul), T’neeya, AratheJay, amongst others, all make an appearance on the project. Their presence raises the question: What guides M.anifest’s feature selections? “I’m usually very excited about the music of my collaborators. They are people whose music I dig. I have great respect for their music. So, when I’m making music and it starts taking shape, the music becomes my commander, and it drives me to people who will make an incredible contribution to the project. It’s in-between intention and the universe working an organic magic for me”. Whether it’s playing early tracks for Flea during sessions in Los Angeles or connecting with Bien in Accra fresh off his Detty December high, each collaboration on the album felt destined.
How does M.anifest make music? “From scratch”, he says. For him, 90% of the time, creation begins with nothing. Take “Eye Red”, for example; its distinctive horns emerged unexpectedly during a session, and he began crafting lyrics to the melody as the beat took shape. “Once you start from a place of nothingness, a place you’re excited about, you can keep going”, he tells me. However, M.anifest isn’t averse to working on fully-formed beats, as tracks like “Highlands” and “FTYD” began as partially formed instrumentals.
With nearly two years gone into the creation of the project, with production happening in different cities in the U.S. and Ghana, one might wonder how M.anifest maintained thematic consistency while working with various producers. The linchpin proved to be his longtime collaborator and musical co-captain, Budo, who served as something of a creative “cheat code” for the project. “I’d advise anyone trying to create a coherent project to find an executive producer who truly understands your vision. I wanted to expand my sound while keeping it nuanced; Budo got that completely”.
Not only did Budo produce numerous tracks, but his fingerprints appear throughout the album via co-production credits, becoming the album’s unifying sonic force.
As our conversation winds down, M.anifest’s tone turns reflective. We are chatting about African music and how its popular sound has exploded onto the global stage, commanding international tours, sold-out shows, and recognition at prestigious award ceremonies. Noticeably, major labels and distributors now clamour to tap into the continent’s creative wealth, validating decades of collective artistic labour.
Despite these seeming developments, there’s a gaping challenge within Africa’s music ecosystem: the missing infrastructure to systematically develop raw talent into sustainable stardom. M.anifest sees this disconnect and confronts it with characteristic clarity. “We are authors of our own stories, and I mean in the business side of music. We are responsible for our own trajectories. We have to realise that nobody is more committed to what we do than we are. Everybody else can come and go because they have [an] interest in what’s popping. We have to look beyond today, and that means we have to diversify our portfolio. I want to hear all sorts of African music flourish, as it is within our interest to let that happen so we don’t get boxed. Every genre from this continent deserves its time in the sun”.
Nowhere is this oversight more glaring than in African Hip-Hop. The continent teems with Hip-Hop talents that, as critics would argue, can rival most global rappers at their peak. Yet when international publications curate their “Greatest Rappers” lists, African artistes remain ghosts in the canon, even when their discographies and acclaim match those honoured.
M.Dot acknowledges that there may be complex reasons for this exclusion but rejects grievance politics. “Our job is to be consistently excellent and to make it so undeniable that it gets loved and validated to the point where other people get interested in it. And that is the reason why our popular African music started going global. We stopped begging for validation and made it about us. Our Hip-Hop scene must engineer the same takeover. We can’t keep saying ‘Our ancestors built the pyramids’. What are we building now?”.
Conversations online typically arise over what constitutes ‘real’ Hip-Hop music, as audiences are introduced to new acts who embrace vernacular and indigenous rap. Should every expression of rap have its day?
M.anifest believes there’s more than one way to be authentic. “What is more purist about Hip-Hop than representing where you’re from in the most authentic way? The most Hip-Hop purist thing you can do is be authentic. I cannot not be from Ghana. Authenticity is not me pretending to sound like Black Thought, Nas, or The Roots. It is me finding my own voice and fully expressing myself. None of us are making the music of our parents, even if we love it. Our children are not going to make our [kind of] music. We should be careful with heavy handed critiques”.
I am intrigued at the depth of revelations from chatting with this artiste whose artistry I respect and love. When I ask him what advice would he give up-and-coming rap artistes who look to him as inspiration, he tells me without mincing words, “Be dope as fuck, bro. Be dope by dope standards. Don’t be dope by Kumasi, Enugu, or Abuja standards. That will always serve you well, in any boardroom or stage you enter”.
Emmanuel ‘Waziri’ Okoro is a content writer and journo with an insatiable knack for music and pop culture. When he’s not writing, you will find him arguing why Arsenal FC is the best football club in the multiverse. Connect with him on Twitter, Instagram, and Threads: @BughiLorde