In conversation with Adekunle Gold

for Glamcult #143, the DEEPREAL issue

Adekunle Gold is one of Afropop’s brightest shape-shifters. Born and raised in Lagos, the Nigerian singer-songwriter has built a career on reinvention: from designing graphics to writing music, from prophetic “King of Photoshop” edits that placed him beside global stars to headlining stages where those same stars are now his peers. At every turn, he has used confidence not as a mask, but as a tool — projecting the life he imagined until it became real.

That confidence defines him still. Gold walks into a room like he already owns it — and somehow makes you feel like you do too. That’s the paradox at the heart of his charisma: a confidence so oversized it could be intimidating, yet instead it spills outward, energising everyone around him. It’s this spirit that drives his music, where highlife, Afrobeats, R&B, and street pop converge, always anchored in Yoruba tradition. His upcoming project, Fuji, pushes this further, reimagining the ecstatic, percussive Yoruba genre for the modern stage while infusing it with his signature melodic warmth. Both homage and reinvention, Fuji is a continuation of his restless exploration of music as a deeply human, spiritual practice. This drive is inseparable from his own story: living with sickle cell disease has only sharpened his conviction that limits don’t have to define you. Now, in what he calls his “Big Fish” era, Gold embodies the tension between image and reality, performance and truth. His music is both manifestation and offering: a reminder that becoming larger than life can also mean pulling others closer.

Hey, we’re super excited to have you! We just recorded My Love is the Same on Glamcult TV – can you tell us more about the song?
I wrote the song for my daughter. You’ll hear my daughter’s voice in the beginning. It’s the story of a man who’s struggling with working and choosing to be home. Because, to be honest, there’s no way I’m going to be there with my girls. I have a five-year-old daughter and my wife. But, I have to work. We have to keep the lights on. I’m thankful for my supportive wife. She’s also an artist, so we have to find ways to balance it. But for the most part, she holds it down the most.

Good that you acknowledge that.
Yeah! I’m just trying to be better than my dad. That’s it.

Let’s rewind and talk about the beginning of your journey. When doing the research, I loved living through your “King of Photoshop” era.
Yeah, it’s been a long ride of finding myself. I found music very early – a huge shout-out to my auntie. I sang in church for 11 years, wanting to have a solo, and it never happened. They didn’t think I was good enough. But that drive to prove I had it kept me going. I listened to a lot of James Faulkner. Of course, the legends from Nigeria. King Sunny Ade. Ebenezer Abe. Kwame Wan. All of them. When I left school, I started making music. One Saturday evening, I saw a picture of Tiwa Savage. I said I’d like to have a picture with Tiwa Savage someday. I thought, maybe I can? I then manipulated my own picture into Tiwa’s picture. I posted it, and I got a lot of reactions. I was making music before, but this was the first time people paid attention. So I started doing a lot of Photoshop. I did Kim Kardashian, Rihanna, Kanye West, Nicki Minaj. I was getting global attention. I released my first single, which was a cover of One Direction’s Story of My Life. Then, I made Shadi. Shadi is about a girl whom I liked, and she didn’t like me back. I released it in December 2014. The song blew up, and my life changed.

Do you feel like those early creations were acts of manifestation, in a way?
My life is a series of manifestations. Everything that I am now, I said I was going to be. I dreamt it. I worked at it. I kept reminding myself that this is the only goal. I studied art and industrial design at school. But I’m also a man of the arts. I woke up one day, and I was feeling positive. I posted this tweet where I was listing the things that I could do. I said musician, sculptor, graphic designer, painter, ceramist. Save this picture. You will join me in sharing my success story soon. That was 2013. And now we’re here.

Would you say your expectations of fame and success match up to the reality of it?
Honestly, yeah. But the things that it takes from you are crazy. The freedom to be. Especially if you’re an opinionated person. You want to share your thoughts all the time, but you can’t say everything. I can’t walk on the street just randomly. That’s the first thing that I started to notice. Over the years, I’ve learned to remind myself that I’m first a human before the fame. If I feel a certain way, I’m going to talk about it. Some people won’t like it. Some people will. But that’s the point of life.

There are always two sides to the coin. Have you had moments when you couldn’t say something because of being in the public eye?
With some things, but that was before. Now, I don’t give a fuck anymore.

What kinds of things? Were they more vulnerable things? Or political?
Vulnerable, political. Vulnerable for the most part. In 2022, I spoke about having sickle cell disease for the first time. I asked myself, “What’s my inhibition?” Having sickle cell has a stigma. People look at you like you have a death sentence. But a lot of people live with sickle cell. And I want to give hope to people who think that their lives are over. Because sickle cell is actually really crazy. You fight for your life. That’s why they call us survivors. And I just thought to myself, if this is the strength and hope that I can give people living with sickle cell, especially children, I’ll do it. I’ll lay down my voice for that. I also speak out on political stuff. If something is not right, it’s not right. I’ll talk about it.

That must have been a vulnerable, and quite a scary, step to take — to speak so openly about something so personal.
Yeah, it was. But now, I’m a Big Fish. I don’t talk in italics anymore. Straight.

Can you tell me more about your foundation, 5star Care?
It’s sad that the world is not paying attention to sickle cell as it should. It affects my people more. Nigeria has the largest population of people living with sickle cell. I’m using my voice as an artist to shed light on it. We need more awareness. That’s why I’m going all out. Bimonthly, I do outreaches to 500 people with the Gold Foundation. They come from different places in Nigeria. We see people living with sickle cell, give them free drugs, blood transfusions, and psychotherapy. We have arts and fun activities for children and older people. This year, we took it further; we got 1,000 people living in Lagos free healthcare. I’m happy to fund this all with my money because I know that as I bless my people, you touch one and then one touches others. So, I hope that a lot more people get aware of the danger of sickle cell. The thing is, if somebody living with sickle cell marries another sickle cell, that’s dangerous. If you’re sickle cell, you cannot have children with another person who’s not AA [a person who doesn’t carry the sickle cell trait gene]. So the first step is for people to know their genotypes.

I imagine it must be difficult to open up a conversation about something so stigmatised, especially when it carries such weight for life choices and family planning.
Exactly, it is. The moment you talk about it, people look at you like, “Oh, he’s dying.” But that’s not the case. You can be strong. I tour every two years. The last time I toured, I played 50 nights back-to-back. You can live your dreams, even with sickle cell.

Big Fish behaviour! Coming back to the title, what does it mean to you to call yourself that? Would you say it’s an attitude you’ve always had?
I feel like I grew into it. I’m from Lagos. Lagos is water. It’s surrounded by water. We’re known for fish. I’ve gotten to a point in my life where I’m not afraid to say anything I want. I’ve always been very audacious. I do the things that other artists are afraid to do. I’ve called myself all sorts of names. Called myself A.G. Baby. Called myself Tio Tequila. Bad Boy Decks. It’s been 10 years since my first single, and it feels like I’ve done a lot of things. Let me not say I’ve done it all, because there’s so much more to do. But it feels like I’m the shit. I’m the greatest. And that’s Big Fish right there. It’s royalty. And also, I’m a prince. My progenitor was the king of Lagos. The biggest fish rules the water. That’s what I am.

Was there a specific moment where you really felt that?
I went back to our palace. We have a palace in Lagos. It’s called Iriko. Iriko is where you gather all the market produce. My ancestor, the king of Lagos, was also the Oloja of Iriko. Oloja of Iriko means that he was the custodian of the market. I went back to the palace in December 2024. Learning the history of my king, Kosoko, and the life he lived, the genius ideas he had, the things he did, it felt like, “Oh, this has always been me. I carry that energy.” I need to embody this royalty. I didn’t really care for it before. But it felt like I returned to myself when I went to the palace. Since then, I’ve moved differently. I’ve walked differently. I’ve spoken my mind differently. I’ve become more confident. I was confident before, but it felt like I was acting it. Now, it’s actually me. I’ve embodied it.

Yeah, it’s one thing to project it, another to truly own it.  How does that self-possession flow into your music? You draw so much from Yoruba tradition, but your sound also feels boundless.
My first language is Yoruba. My first culture, everything I have is Yoruba. I’m so happy to be Yoruba. You can never run out of things to say or to sing in Yoruba. I grew up listening to a lot of Yoruba songs. These were songs that were handed to me because I didn’t have a choice. I listened to Fuji, I listened to Highlife, Juju, Akpala, and Wiriri. These are traditional genres that are not mainstream. Later on, I discovered R&B and pop. If you see my playlist, I listen to things that you can’t even imagine. I listen to sounds from Brazil. I listen to Kizomba. Music is such a beautiful language. You don’t even need to understand what they’re saying — just listen and enjoy. I’m born from all these cultures, traditions, sounds. That’s why I can’t be boxed. I’m able to express myself in any sound that I want. I think the biggest thing about my music is sincerity. It doesn’t have to be the words, but the way I sing.

Have you ever felt restrained in that?
Never. The day I released my first album, Gold, in 2016, I said, ¨The next one I’m going to make it a bit pop.” In 2018, I released About 30. In 2020, I said, You know what? I’m done playing around. I want to do an Afropop album. I did Afropop, and it changed my life. I’ve never been afraid to try.

It’s really refreshing to hear. I feel like the music industry often attempts to box artists in, even though listeners today celebrate diversity and chaos in playlists.
I feel bad for artists who can’t try because they’re doing themselves so much disservice. You are a god. I don’t think artists realise that when god made you, he gave you his breath, and he said, “Go and create. You can do anything.” If you have the spirit in you, why are you afraid to try? Why do you want to be restricted because of playlisting? If it sounds good to you, sing that shit. Try it. You don’t know what you will find. Just explore it. And it’s not easy to be in this era. I blew up in a non-streaming era. And now, I’m going head-to-head with people who are popping in the streaming era. That is legendary as fuck. And that’s because the goal is always to be timeless. I just want to do whatever; the most important thing to me is to make it mine. I don’t borrow just anything. Whatever I do, it has to be Kosoko music. It has to be mine. I feel like every artist needs to enjoy that. They need to not be afraid. It’s absolutely impossible for everybody to dislike it. There’s an audience for everything.

There certainly is. For you, is that sincerity the only way we can resist the algorithmic streaming culture of the current listening culture?
Sincerity. Just do you. Music is supposed to be enjoyable. It’s an art first before the business. Don’t get me wrong — the business is nice. But if you think about the business too much, you just kill the art.

How do you find the balance in that?
I think art first. I let the people who do the business do the business. My job is to make the art.

Fair enough. I imagine it’s quite hard right now, having to market and be sincere. It’s tedious. But I suppose you found your ways, even in your “King of the Photoshop” times.
Exactly, yeah. I feel like people need to find a system that works for them. Gimmicks are nice sometimes, but they backfire. Just be yourself and find ways that are comfortable for you. Maybe, sometimes, that means not being yourself. I’m going to be very honest, you have to do what you have to do sometimes. I’ve seen people release music that is below par, but they go out and make noise around it. So, if you make great music, you know that you’re the shit, go out and make noise as well. If you’ve done the art, you’ve taken the pain, the sleepless nights — get the music to the people.

Own it! Have there been any moments where your audience’s response really struck you — moments that made you realise the true impact of your work?
It’s an ongoing experience for me. I never wanted to go mainstream. I wanted the mainstream to come to me. And that literally happened. I didn’t fight for any mainstream shit.

It’s also so impressive that the mainstream also came to you across so many genres. When you step into a new era of your music, with a distinct sound and vision, does it feel like stepping into a new character?
Yeah, it’s felt like stepping into a character, but I also made it my own. Every album, I play the role and have different names. AG Baby was when I dropped Afropop. I plaited my hair, keeping it very cheap and all of that. When I dropped Catch Me If You Can, it was Bad Boy Dex, another bad boy era. When I dropped Tequila Ever After, I called myself Tio Tequila – the uncle who likes tequila. I used to drink cognac before, and I wanted to talk about the experience I felt when I drank tequila for the first time in 2021. It was a whole new persona. 2025 is Big Fish time. It’s my experiences, it’s things that I like at the moment. Right now, I don’t think Big Fish is a role. It’s actually fully me.

And what can we expect in this upcoming chapter with Fuji?
Fuji is one of the oldest sounds from Nigeria, pioneered by a man called Sikirwa Indi Barista and his friend, Ayinde Kollington, in the 60s/50s. It came from a sound called Wiri, which is a Yoruba Muslim devotion. Every morning, men and children would sit down and play drums. It’s very, very spiritual. Barista used to sing Wiri when he was younger, then he grew up and made it more uptempo, more percussive. Fuji was actually supposed to be Faji, which means enjoyment. But he travelled to Japan and saw Mount Fuji. It’s a mountain of love, and he decided to name the genre after it. Fuji became a household sound, the soundtrack of Nigeria. I grew up on that. I listened to it everywhere on the streets, on my way to school. My auntie would play it in the house. I’ve always loved Fuji because I thought it was very authentic. These people sang without autotune, on top of their voices. No inhibitions, they say everything, they borrow other sounds. So when I began making this album in 2019, I decided I needed to make my own Fuji album. Fuji was going to be an acronym for Finding Uncharted Journey Inside. I realised, I’ve done music all my life, I’ve given all my life to music. I wanted to start doing other things. I started taking up acting classes, learned how to play the piano, perfected my swimming, read more. I watched movies I missed out on as a child. I started to design.

To design?
Yeah, that’s my design [points to the glasses]. I have a brand called Tough Man, and I’m designing earrings. I’m going to start rolling them out very soon. I’m doing new things, and that’s why I call the album Finding Uncharted Journeys Inside.

I suppose sonically, too.
Exactly. It’s bold to call my album Fuji, but that’s because I want you to know about it.

It’s time to get educated.
Yes, this album is an education. It’s a master class. When you listen to Fuji, you book your ticket to Lagos. Tourism in Nigeria has already grown a lot from Afrobeats. That’s what I want, and I’m still carrying that torch. That’s the whole point of this album.

The Ministry of Tourism should pay you. Can you tell me if there’s a particular track that resonates with you the most right now?
There’s My Love, because that’s about my daughter. Also, there is a Simile. I made it when Beyoncé’s team reached out when she was making the Lion King album. They wanted me to write a song for her, and I wasn’t interested because I had just lost my dad. I was not in the frame of mind to want to write anything, but they kept pestering me, so I finally wrote it. But when it was done, I was praying that they wouldn’t pick it because it felt too personal to me. I love Beyoncé, but it just felt as if I was giving away my story. Behold, they didn’t pick it. It’s still very important to me.

That’s beautiful. Thank you for sharing. My final question — what are you manifesting for the rest of the year?
I’m manifesting that Fuji lives in people’s hearts and homes. I’m manifesting more peace.