Igwe Aka Interview: Breaking Through in Africa and the U.S.

It’s an abnormally sunny afternoon when I arrive at a quiet, tree-lined street in Lekki—an upscale, suburban neighborhood in Lagos, Nigeria. Not long after, I am led up a short flight of stairs into a small but tastefully decorated apartment where Igwe Aka, his girlfriend, and his manager Kellen are residing during their time here.

The living room is small, with a large TV, a moderately sized couch, and a glass dining table that doubles as a makeshift studio. Speakers, headphones, and mixers sit next to a few uncorked bottles, unopened cigarette packs, and an overflowing ashtray. There’s no doubt that Aka (full name Anthony Chukwubuike Aka’Naizerigwe) is feeling right at home.

For our interview, we settle in at the dining table. When Aka speaks, periodically taking careful drags of cigarettes in between his sentences, there’s a calming familiarity to his delivery. It has an effect that is instantly familial and unforgettable; both of which are strong elements of his music.

Propulsive, unapologetically Igbo (a prominent ethnic group in southeastern Nigeria), and driven by hard-edged experimentation, Aka describes his sound as “Wawa music” (also the name of his latest release), referring to a cultural subgroup in Eastern Nigeria known as Ndi Wawa. Ndi Wawa are often found in states like Ebonyi and Enugu, where Aka is originally from. Like Aka and his music, Wawa people are known for their unique dialect and assertive nature. For one, their word for “no” is “waa” and not “mba” as is common amongst most Igbo groups.

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Igwe Aka has spent years making music in America, primarily for an American audience. Despite this, as far back as 2018, he has incorporated elements of Igbo music, both in his lyrics and instrumentation. More recently though, Aka has begun finding a new audience: Nigerians who can fully appreciate the cultural nuances of his music. It began with a viral clip of Aka stunting to his single “KAPOW,” which features Tochi Bedford. The song keeps building momentum and has placed him at the forefront of a new underground movement taking over Nigerian music. Aka’s music arrives at a moment in Nigerian music when underground sounds are having an increasing impact on the mainstream.

Aka follows in the steps of predecessors like Phyno, Jeriq, and others who rap in Igbo and have employed the form to enhance storytelling and conceptualize their identities. Much of Aka’s music, whether ruminating on the fast life or taking a look at community, is defined by an urgency and a stripped-down quality.

Below, Aka speaks with Pigeons and Planes about the making of “Kapow,” what he loves about being in Lagos, his new track on See You Next Year 3, and what the future looks like.

Igwe Aka’s latest singles “EGONOMICS” and “BACKASSI” were just released on April 3. Listen here.

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You were just out to the store and had some fans hop out of a car to say hi to you. What was that like for you?
It feels different, but also kind of similar in the sense of being a teenager and having local buzz in Sacramento. What's mainly different about it now, though, is it's African, so the type of love you get is different, it’s a more familiar type of love. I'm really just grateful. You can't control people loving you, people not loving you, or having a moment. You put out art and just be grateful.

Do you think it would have been difficult to break into this scene with a song like “Kapow” a few years ago?
Yeah, definitely. I think people have had to train their ears to be able to consume what's going on right now. Trap music had to cross over to here [Nigeria] and music from here had to cross over to there [the U.S]. When I first got to America, I used to show my friends Afrobeats and they used to be like, man, turn this techno off. The way they processed it, they didn't have any reference points. And then, Davido and Wizkid, all these guys started blowing up and that shit gave a lot of motherfuckers over there reference points for African music. Even artists like Carti and Young Boy crossing over to Nigeria created context for this.

You first moved to America when you were three, moved back to Nigeria aged six, and then moved back to America. What helped you maintain your connection to your Igbo roots while moving between these worlds?
I don't remember even living in America at three. My first memories are like six, seven, being in Enugu and Federal Housing in Trans Ekulu with my grandma and my grandpa. My actual parents were almost these figures I heard about for most of my life. My mom moved to America before me. We’re very tight knit, no matter where we are. I also grew up in an Igbo Catholic community in Sacramento. My dad had an ogene band called Mbadike. He had his own little wave, he’d play at all the weddings. For the summer, me and my brothers would go be the background dancers and we would make $300-$400 doing that. We’d have dance practice every Saturday with our dad, training to dance like Igbo masquerades.

What did you enjoy most about that time?
It was never really about the money. It was all about training with my dad, who was really into art. He’d make us watch videos of great performers and made us learn how to dance, how to play different instruments, and how to play the characters of different masquerades. That was really the fun part. We didn’t really even know how to adapt [to American culture]. We were the same people for a long time. I didn’t feel that different from being back in Enugu within our community.

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You can't control people loving you, people not loving you, or having a moment. You put out art and just be grateful.

Which artists/performers do you remember your dad introducing you to?
My dad put me on to Osita Osadebe, Sonny Bobo, Olive De Coque, Awilo Lokomba, Jimi Hendrix, Bob Marley, Mariam Makeba. My dad really loved music. That was his shit. He wished that he was a musician in his time.

How did “Kapow” come together?
We were making this other song called “Jump and Pass,” then I met Tochi Bedford at a listening party in LA. We bonded over being Igbo. We linked up, played music. He was like, man, you gotta lock in with JAYTRON. JAYTRON sent me a beat pack. It was maybe number six or nine on the beatpack. I recorded a song to it, sent it right back to Tochi like, man, you should hop on this too. He hopped on it. It was organic. Me and Tochi just made hella songs. We made so many songs we wanted to make a tape or some shit like that. And then it was between “Kapow” and this other song called “Jealous” that we all loved so much. Tochi and his girlfriend were advocating for “Kapow” so we put it out. I don't believe too much in fate, but it felt like it was supposed to happen.

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Talk to me about the sensibilities of your lyrics and developing narratives in Igbo language.
Since I was a kid, I have been slowly trying to work on writing in Igbo and understand how to use my literary devices in Igbo as if I was writing a book. It’s something I had to develop on my own when I had time.

When did you first know that “Kapow” was going to be a hit?
Every once in a while I’ve made a song where I’m like, man, this should be a hit if all things go well. When I posted the first video on TikTok, it got 500 views. I had no followers. That, to me, was proof of concept. Then I posted the next one and it got 20,000 views, and I was like, all right. I didn't spam it in a traditional way like everybody who posts every single day.

I've always believed that quality content is better than quantity. I felt like if I kept posting it every single day from then to now, it'd probably have a million views. But then I'd be the “Kapow” n***a. I’d rather have a career than a million views in a month. I was like, instead of spamming this song the rest of the month, while I have all these eyes, let me just start pushing the next stuff.

What's been the best feedback you've received so far since the release?
It’s just about people hearing it. I was being told to keep promoting the song that we had, because I had just dropped a song less than a month before. “Kapow.” If a song is not working, it might not be the moment. You know, like we talked about earlier, if we dropped “Kapow” three years ago, people wouldn't have appreciated it. And it wouldn't have been the song. It would have just been the moment. You know, so when I when I have a belief in a song and it doesn't work out, I like to look at the landscape and realize, maybe this just wasn't a moment for this song,

How important is community to you as an artist? It features a lot in your work, particularly in the things you choose to show in your videos.
Everything. I wouldn't have gotten this far without the homies, without my mom, without my brothers, my sisters. Everybody played such an integral role. When I made “Kapow,” I sent it to my family group chat. My brother was the first one to be like, bro, this one is it. This is it. When I'm in America, they're calling me, they're watching all my music videos on YouTube. They're going through the whole thing.

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I've always believed that quality content is better than quantity [...] I’d rather have a career than a million views in a month.

You come to Nigeria often, do you see yourself making it a second home?
Music brought me back home. The real fact is last year, I was literally just sleeping on couches. I couldn't afford to base myself out of Nigeria. I think about it all the time; just to even be able to be here and afford to be here right now. I definitely want to base myself out of here, but I also want to base myself out of Northern California. It’s finding a balance.

What do you like about Lagos in general?
I fuck with Lagos. I love being out here. I think the best thing about Lagos is how convenient everything is; how close the stores are. You can go see a movie, you can go do all these different things… and the food.

Can you talk to me about “Wake Up and Get Sexy,” the song you have on See You Next Year 3?
We made that song at a recording studio in LA before I came to Nigeria in December. It was a simple story. I bought a bottle of tequila, drank it, and we started recording. It was the first time my homie Pat and the other producer Billy Lemos had linked up, and it was my first time hooking up with Billy as well. It was just cool immersion. Like I said, every time I’m making a song, I’m really, really trying to pull something out of myself that I've literally never done before. That was a cool time where it was so well executed. We all felt like we were making something that’s hella fresh right now. That’s so refreshing to me.

What are you most excited about for the future?
Watching the plane land. That's really it.

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Igwe Aka