“I find that authenticity is something that perfectionism robs you of”. – Tolani
By Emmanuel ‘Waziri’ Okoro
I
What does perfection look like, and who decides when you’ve reached it? I’ve wrestled with this question perhaps more times than I care to admit. Each time I wrap up a project and move on to the next, I often find myself asking: Did I give it everything? Was it perfect? Will the next one be? I never quite land on an answer. Even when I receive a nod of approval from peers, there’s often a nagging feeling that something’s missing.
It’s a constant back-and-forth, a tightrope woven between striving and falling short, or perhaps, trying to find that elusive sweet spot where everything just feels right. In the swirl of this internal debate, a video on Instagram stops me in my tracks. It’s Tolani–Nigerian singer, songwriter, and producer. Her voice is calm but disarming as she says, “Hi, my name is Tolani, and I’m a recovering wallflower and perfectionist”. It’s the kind of statement that lingers, the kind that makes you want to know more.
Days later, I would sit across from her in a virtual interview, urging to know more. We would discuss, amongst other things, her upbringing and love for music; how she breathes life into her music; and the workings behind her latest exclusive playlist, SH*T I NVR FINISHED. Her presence in the interview feels like a quiet conviction. There’s a softness with the way she answers each question I throw at her, but it doesn’t take long to sense the steel that accompanies it; a clarity of purpose she’d slowly sharpened over time.
“Perfectionism is feeling like something has to be absolutely perfect before I share it”, she says, when I ask her what it means to be a recovering perfectionist. “When I was in boarding school in the UK, my mom showed me one of my report cards, where the teacher goes, ‘You need to let Tolani know that life has no dress rehearsals and she just needs to get her work done and not be a perfectionist about it’. There’s a lot of pressure for things to be perfect. I am recovering because I’m forcibly letting go of those ideals”.
Born to Nigerian billionaire businessman, Femi Otedola, and the older sibling to disc jockey, Cuppy, and fashion entrepreneur, Temi, Tolani’s love for music started from a young age. But she wasn’t always sure it could be a career, especially at a time when music, through the lens of most Nigerians, was viewed more as a hobby than a legitimate profession. Still, her passion for music led her to participate in the school and church choir. Even as a Psychology undergraduate at the university, she enlisted in music bands, took guitar lessons, and surrounded herself with like-minded creatives.
As time went on, she would get encouraging feedback about her talent. “The external feedback I received started to match how I felt internally”. But it wasn’t until she graduated that she approached her parents about the idea of pursuing music professionally. At that point, they couldn’t deny her passion, especially as people started talking about how good she was. “I kind of walked into music as a career.”
So, how important is support from one’s family, especially in the Nigerian context, to an artiste’s journey? “Very, very important”, she says. “Times are changing, and I hope that parents of today are seeing the arts as a viable contribution to society. Because when you look at the stories of the greats—from Michael Jackson, Taylor Swift, and even Burna Boy, you cannot disregard the parental element in their careers”.
II
West African music, since the Afrobeats to the World charge, has introduced global audiences to mainstream Afro-Pop and Street-Hop music. While it might appear to anyone who’s not looking keenly that that’s the only genre the region has to offer, there are talented acts who are still holding the fort and expanding the soundscape of other genres.
Tolani, since she burst onto the scene with her 2019 breakthrough single, “Ba Mi Lo” featuring Reekado Banks, has not only captured hearts but carved out a distinct space in Afro-Soul and Afro-R&B–pockets of her creativity, even as her taste spans an eclectic range of genres.
At the core of her music—embellished with velvety production, soulful melodies, and emphatic lyricism—is a voice that has positioned her as one of Nigeria’s most compelling exports in recent years. Naturally, it begs the question: which artistes has she listened to, drawn inspiration from, and channelled into her sound?
“I listen to a lot of music”, she tells me. “From Sade, Tracy Chapman, Jhene Aiko, Nelly and Kelly [Rowland], Michael Jackson, Mariah the Scientist, Niniola, Asa, Mariah Carey, to Wande Coal. The first album I ever bought was a Ludacris album. When I was young, my dad was obsessed with Snoop Dogg, so I listened to him a lot, too. My taste is time-bending and generationally distinct”.
With such a wide palette of sonic influences under her belt, another question arises: how does Tolani make music? For her, the process has always felt vulnerable and deeply personal, and thus, the idea of having multiple people in the studio makes her feel like a wallflower. “Mentally, I have to go to a place where I wouldn’t go with other people”.
And so, when producers send her beat packs, she picks out the ones she likes, saves them to her computer, and starts to map out ideas. Once in the studio, the process is instinctive: she plays a track, switches on the mic, and voices whatever comes naturally; sometimes it’s melodies, other times, full verses. At other times, she begins with emotion: journaling her thoughts and feelings, then finding or building a beat to match.
The inspiration behind her 2024 single, “Crybaby”, is a case in point. “One Sunday after church, I had a fight with my mum and sister. Walking home, I was like, ‘I’m such a crybaby.’ I brought out my phone, typed a few sentences, and I knew I wanted to turn that idea of a crybaby into a song. It just really depends; sometimes I hear the music first, other times I go into my space, usually alone, and start creating”.
III
Musicians, like most creatives, often find themselves questioning their work to the point of doubting whether it’s even worth the mettle. One moment, a project feels like the best thing since Jollof rice; the next, you’re uncertain. Perhaps it was this tussle that sparked the idea behind Tolani’s exclusive playlist, SH*T I NVR FINISHED. She had been going through a phase where she would release new music, feel excited about it, and then fall out of rhythm after.
One day, she’d had enough. She revisited her hard drive and began listening to songs she had recorded but never put out. As she sifted through the unreleased tracks, she started noting the ones that had initially filled her with excitement. The more she listened, the more she found herself asking: why didn’t I finish these songs? As she jotted down some of the reasons in her journal, she noticed what she had scribbled at the top of the page: Some shit I never finished. That line stuck. “And in that spirit of not perfecting anything, I decided I was going to share it as it came to me. I find that authenticity is something that perfectionism robs you of. I didn’t want to overwork that title, removing it from its initial spark”.
Perhaps, the most fascinating aspect of SH*T I NVR FINISHED is the approach Tolani has taken in sharing it. None of the songs has been released on the traditional streaming platforms; instead, she opted for a more personal route, putting them out exclusively on Instagram and SoundCloud.
Tolani had always wanted to share music and connect with her listeners in an intimate way, free from the herculean bureaucracy of drawing up budgets, working DSPs, planning visuals, and all the machinery that often comes with being signed to a major label. She simply wanted to strip it all back and do what she had always wanted to do: release music. “I wanted to take away this pressure to do it big, and just… do it”.
Then comes the big question: how do collaborators get paid for their work if the music isn’t being monetised? “I told them we’re not monetising yet, but the hope is that if any of these songs does well, and we decide to release them as feature singles, then everybody wins. But nobody wins if those songs remain on the hard drive”.
So far, three songs—“Honesty”, “Hate Loving”, and “Wish the Worst”—have been released on the playlist, which is billed to feature eight songs in total, with one new track dropping each week. When I ask her which of the songs (released and unreleased) were challenging to make, she mentions “Honesty”.
Before the pandemic, she had been working on what she hoped would be her debut project. During that time, while collaborating with various songwriters, artistes, and producers, a particular artiste played her one of his unreleased songs, a song he didn’t like. She loved it, recorded her verse, and laid down background vocals. They were both happy with the result.
Shortly after, the artiste blew up internationally, and she couldn’t get a hold of him to sort out the release. When she eventually circled back to include the song on SH*T I NVR FINISHED, the producer couldn’t locate the stems. “The version of ‘Honesty’ that you now hear? I had to do some work on the stems myself. I almost gave up on the song, but I’m glad I didn’t”.
IV
The Nigerian music scene has, in recent years, produced several talented female voices, far more than what was attainable 15 years ago. However, beneath the veneer of this laudable progress lies an industry still grappling with a unique challenge: providing a proper pipeline from female artiste development to superstardom. The rise of more female-led artistry in Afrobeats is indicative of the country slowly shedding some of its entrenched patriarchal layers.Still, there’s a lot of work to be done, according to Tolani, and perhaps it begins in the studio.
“A male artiste can walk into any studio, and the sound engineers will know what to do with his voice. That’s because they’ve had a lot of practice and experience with male artistes. That same level of attention isn’t placed on female vocalists. That’s why I learnt how to vocal engineer myself. There should be enough dedication to mastering the female sound and knowing what to do with a female vocal”.
Despite the gains made, other barriers to entry that emerging female acts often face include limited airplay, pressure to conform to mainstream tastes, and the constant balancing act between artistic integrity and industry expectations.
These challenges, while systemic, often spill into the personal, shaping how female artistes see themselves and their craft. For Tolani, the journey has meant carving out her own space; learning new skills, protecting her artistic voice, and refusing to be boxed in. It’s this quiet defiance, this commitment to self-definition, that stays with me.
As the interview slowly winds down, I realise that perhaps I’ve learnt more from her than just hearing her talk about music. Perhaps perfection isn’t a destination, but the tiny details in the journey that make it worthwhile. Perhaps the simple act of showing up and putting in the work outweighs the urge to procrastinate in pursuit of perfection.
When I ask Tolani what advice every emerging artiste needs to know before venturing into the industry, she says, “Find that authenticity that is unapologetically you. I find the industry to be very stripping of authenticity, as it somewhat forces you to do what the people want; that ends up robbing you of your place in the industry. That thing you love about your music? Keep it”.
Emmanuel ‘Waziri’ Okoro is a content writer and journo with an insatiable knack for music and pop culture, with bylines on Afrocritik, PM News Nigeria, Tribune, ThisDay Live, Vanguard, and The Guardian. 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