Back in October, the Nigerian singer Tems locked eyes with a handsome fella in the front rows at the Greek Theatre in L.A.
“This guy is winking at me. At least you’re confident,” she laughed as she clambered over the railing to sing directly to the dude, who said his name was Toby. “I’m gonna make this special,” Tems told the crowd. “I’m gonna try to freestyle with your name but you have to look me in my eyes.”
She crooned his name in a coquettish melisma, inviting him to “tell me how you want me, you look like you want it” while he melted into a puddle. Suddenly aware of her powers, she cracked up. “Now I’m shy,” she said. “I’m not good at freestyling.”
Toby would beg to differ. But the moment was emblematic of a world that’s fallen for Tems.
With striking appearances on singles like Wizkid’s “Essence” and the Grammy-winning “Wait For U” with Future and Drake, Tems became one of the most important voices in modern African music, traversing regional sounds, R&B, hip-hop and pop. “Born in the Wild,” her 2024 debut LP, was sprawling yet deeply personal, covering her broad influences with incisive, emotional songwriting.
Up for three Grammys at next year’s ceremony — a rangy haul of nods for global music album, R&B song and African Music Performance — Tems is carrying a new era of Nigerian music around the world. But this tier of stardom hasn’t always sat easily with her, and she’s fought hard to keep her peace amidst it.
“My whole 2024 mantra has just been ‘Hold On,’ Tems said, referencing the hopeful, valedictory track on “Born in the Wild.” “In that song, I was talking to myself in the past, present and future self. It’s me encouraging myself to, no matter what, stay on the path.”
The 29-year-old Lagos native, born Temilade Openiyi, is among the A-list of modern African artists like fellow Nigerian Burna Boy and and South Africa’s Tyla, who have run up pop charts the world over. It’s reductive to only place her in the Afrobeats wave of the last few years though, as her music is just as rooted in millennial American R&B and the sophisticated modern soul scene of London, where she now lives.
In just four years, her vocal versatility and distinct songwriting perspective made her a must-have for pop stars who wanted in on Africa’s content-spanning movements. A self-assured, autodidactic singer, songwriter, producer and engineer, Tems has a rare combination of curiosity about every moving part in her music and the charisma to bring it to the world onstage. “The perfectionist in me was like, ‘Nobody else is going to work on my vocals because I’m so particular,’” Tems said. “I love altering sounds but I don’t like auto-tune and I don’t like vocal effects, so I was like, ‘Yeah, I need to do this myself.’”
When Tems performed at a packed Coachella set in April, she brought out both fellow Nigerian star Wizkid and Justin Bieber for a radiant version of “Essence.” Beyoncé brought her on with Grace Jones for the propulsive “MOVE,” off her club music opus “Renaissance.” When Rihanna made her musical comeback (of sorts) on “Black Panther: Wakanda Forever,” she called Tems to work on the single “Lift Me Up,” nominated for both a Grammy and an Oscar.
“I’ve tried to write for other people, to emulate their sound, but it’s really hard. They always want me to write from my own perspective,” Tems said. “They’re trying to tap into my sound. They’re trying to be in my shoes.”
Tems attends the 95th Academy Awards at the Dolby Theatre in 2023 in Hollywood.
(Allen J. Schaben/Los Angeles Times)
That sound came into full flower on “Born in the Wild,” an 18-track widescreen document of her past and future as an artist. “Love Me JeJe,” up for the African music performance Grammy, is a magic-hour riff on Seyi Sodimu’s beloved late ’90s track of the same name, conjuring the warmest vibes imaginable and a great reason to dig into the history of Nigerian R&B. The hit “Me & U” is dreamy guitar devotional, bolstered by crisp kicks and incantatory chants; “Ready” conjures Sade’s quiet storm while “Wickedest” edges into smeary Atlanta rap.
“Nigerians are very diverse and cultured in their tastes,” she said. “They love everything while still being true to their roots. That’s why for my first album, I just thought if I was going to put myself out there, I needed to be as authentic as I could about all the things that I grew up on. These sounds that made me who I am as an artist, and I couldn’t think about who was receiving it.”
Lately though, she’s had to think more about that. As her stardom escalated, she’s had to wrestle with a viper pit of attention, from being jailed after a performance in Uganda in 2020 (she’s described it as “basically a setup” over permits) to wild claims in 2023 that she was pregnant with Future’s child (the two hadn’t met in person).
A couple songs on “Born in the Wild” allude to the perils of new celebrity. “Burning” harkens back to ’90s new jack swing to interrogate contemporary fame and how it consumes young voices. “Got your face on magazines / How it feel? It’s killing me,” she sings. “These games will kill you / Don’t let them decide / Sweet words are not truth.”
With “Wickedest,” a boisterous album highlight, she laments that “Everybody want to lie, they want to fight, they want to get me / Thеy wan’ kill me … When they really don’t know me.”
It was a bracing learning experience. “I think I’ve let all that go now,” Tems said. “You can’t really stop other people in the Internet age, where anybody can wake up and say anything. You just have to always make sure that you’re validated from within.”
So far it’s worked. Her resplendent fashion sense has become a hit at every awards show (even becoming a bit of a meme for her sky-high, stage-obscuring white head wrap at the 2023 Oscars). Her fall tour was packed, and the Afrobeats wave that help lift her career shows no signs of slowing as it remakes global pop.
The movement’s at a crossroads at the Grammys, though. After inaugurating the African music performance category last year, the category is in a weird juncture, where embattled American R&B singer Chris Brown has a nomination for African music performance, while Tyla, who won the category’s inaugural award in February, did not get one for her own 2024 debut LP.
“The success of Afrobeats is why people from other countries like tapping into the sound. But that happens to all genres,” Tems said. “It’s happened to R&B, to reggae, to dancehall. At the end of the day, the Grammys is an American awards organization, but I think they’re fair and doing what they’re meant to do.”
Even as African artists garner acclaim abroad, Tems is very aware of the stakes for African people around the world. The darkening climate for immigration in the U.S. and Europe is on her mind as well. The world is a brighter place, she said, if artists and everyday people can live and work where they aspire to be — in Lagos, London or Los Angeles.
“I feel sad about what a lot of people in the world are going through right now,” she said. “There’s nothing I can feel but sad and disappointed. But governments are going to be governments. I just do my best to alleviate sadness wherever I can, for the people that live in Nigeria, and in my community here. You have to do what is in your own power. If enough of us are doing our part, then things can change.”