When people say African music is having a “global moment,” they are often talking about only a small part of the continent.
“Nigeria and South Africa are dominating the most,” said Tuma Basa, YouTube’s former director of Black music culture, who recently announced his departure after eight years at the company.
Afrobeats and Amapiano — South African electronic dance music — are elevating African music worldwide, but the continent’s global presence is still concentrated in only a few countries, despite rich diversity across 50-plus nations.
For Basa, the reasons are both cultural and structural.
“Firstly, they are all English-speaking and right now that still makes a difference in terms of international acceptance of music,” said Basa, referring to Nigeria, South Africa, and Ghana.
Diaspora communities have also played a major role in exporting African sounds internationally.
“Strong diasporas of Nigeria and Ghana are key in getting this music popular,” Basa said.
“South Africa doesn’t have as large diaspora, but their dances spread through social media like wildfire.”
Events in Lagos and Accra, such as “Detty December” and Ghana’s “Year of Return” initiative, have attracted African American and Black British visitors, further accelerating exposure. These visitors often bring the music back to the United States and the United Kingdom, expanding its international reach.
Still, Basa believes much of Africa remains overlooked, noting that many regions and genres receive little to no attention in the global music industry.
“Yes, some regions are being left out of the global conversation,” he said. “But that will change as technology continues to level the playing field.”
Basa highlighted the growing accessibility of tools for music-making and distribution. Cheaper production technology, social media, and global streaming platforms are reducing traditional gatekeeping that once limited artists from emerging markets. Still, he stressed that technology alone is not enough; local infrastructure, licensing systems, and African decision-makers are needed to support artists globally.
Basa knows firsthand what it means to move between worlds.
Born in the Democratic Republic of the Congo to Rwandan parents, raised partly in Zimbabwe and educated in the United States, he describes himself as a “perpetual foreigner.”
“It forced me to empathize,” Basa said. “It forced me to become interculturally competent.”
That perspective would later shape his work at MTV, Spotify, and YouTube, where he became one of the most influential curators in global Black music.
At Spotify, Basa helped build RapCaviar into one of streaming’s most influential hip-hop playlists, helping shape the careers of major artists while also pushing African and diaspora sounds to wider audiences.
Despite the industry’s obsession with algorithms, Basa says there is no real shortcut to sustainable success.
“There are definitely growth hacks that exist,” he said. “Gaming the system is what backfires.”
Instead, he believes that consistency and collaboration remain among the most effective tools for artists trying to build momentum.
“When artists collaborate, they tap into the audience of the other artists,” Basa explained.
“Consistency builds relationships with the audience. They know you’ll always be there.”
Algorithms are only one part of the discovery ecosystem. Basa says human curation, licensing agreements, and commercial partnerships influence what audiences hear on streaming platforms. Playlist editors, label executives, curators, advertisers, and media gatekeepers determine which songs and artists are prioritized.
Brand campaigns, playlist placements, label investments, touring support, and sync deals — where music is licensed for TV, movies, or commercials — all influence which artists achieve international visibility.
As a result of these factors, global exposure is often driven as much by business strategy as by organic discovery. Concert infrastructure, touring networks, and royalty collection systems remain underdeveloped in many markets, presenting challenges that Basa likens to “fixing the plumbing” behind the scenes.
Without stronger systems, African artists risk generating cultural value that others profit from more effectively. Building infrastructure is essential for lasting benefit.
While streaming services publicly discourage direct pay-for-play arrangements, industry influence can still flow through marketing budgets, label relationships, and playlist pitching, helping certain artists gain more exposure than others.
But to Basa, “Human curation is still very important.”
He argues that local knowledge matters because many African sounds and movements are often misunderstood or entirely overlooked by decision-makers outside the continent. Without Africa-based curators and executives in key rooms, entire regions can remain invisible globally.
Still, algorithms are reshaping how listeners discover music, and not always in ways that expand exposure.
“Many are so hyper-personalized that they’re singing to the choir,” Basa said, describing recommendation systems that repeatedly feed listeners more of what they already like.
At the same time, younger audiences are increasingly blurring the line between old and new music, influencing music discovery in novel ways.
“What was considered ‘old’ back in the day is being treated like a current record on a lot of young people’s personal playlists,” Basa said.
Basa suggested that while algorithms can help resurface older music for younger listeners, social platforms like TikTok, user-generated playlists, and internet communities are also driving rediscovery in ways that traditional radio once could not.
Basa insists that Africa’s key challenge is infrastructure, not talent, despite streaming’s global accessibility.
He points to how dramatically technology has changed the music business. During the MTV era, artists needed expensive cameras, editing equipment, and industry connections just to get videos distributed internationally. Today, artists can shoot videos on simple digital cameras, edit them on laptops, and upload them directly to YouTube.
“Music and music visuals are borderless now,” Basa said.
But visibility alone does not equal ownership — an important distinction as the music industry continues to evolve. Artists must secure rights and access alongside global exposure.
“If music isn’t available on platforms, can it ever truly be discovered?” Basa said.
In many African markets, incomplete publishing data, weak rights enforcement, and distribution gaps still prevent music from reaching major global platforms.
The economics of streaming also reveal global disparities.
“The difference in payouts isn’t necessarily because of the artist’s nationality,” Basa explained. “It’s because of where the audience is located.”
Streams generated in wealthier advertising markets often produce significantly more revenue because subscription prices and advertising rates are typically higher in those countries than in developing economies.
Genres like Kizomba — the Angolan music and partner dance style known for its romantic rhythms — and Morna, the soulful Cape Verdean genre often compared to blues or fado, remain largely absent from mainstream global conversations. So do South Africa’s emerging “3 Step” electronic dance movement and Rwanda’s KinyaTrap scene, which blends hip-hop with local storytelling and street culture.
“Even language-wise, it doesn’t feel like the musical movements coming from Francophone [French-speaking] and Lusophone [Portuguese-speaking] countries are part of the same movement as Afrobeats and Amapiano,” Basa said.
For Basa, unity is more than symbolism — it is a practical strategy needed to advance African music globally.
“Collaboration is infrastructure if it’s a movement,” he said. “If all the artists are on the same page.”
Basa is also watching how generative artificial intelligence could reshape music globally.
“Gen AI has its dangers,” he said. “There are going to be some unintended negative byproducts.”
Still, he believes the technology is already too embedded in the industry to reverse.
“The train has left the station,” Basa said. “It’s already being used in different capacities and also at different levels of discretion.”
He pointed to artists using AI-assisted translation, background vocals, and songwriting support — often without fully disclosing the extent of generative AI involved in the process.
Basa also sees potential for AI to help African artists break language barriers and expand internationally.
“I can be an artist in Korea, do my song in Korean, and I can have a Swahili version, a Mandarin version, an Arabic version, a Portuguese version using my voice, my words, my melody, my cadence,” he said. “Nothing changes except for the language.”
At the same time, he believes artists who reject AI entirely will still have a place in the industry.
For Basa, the debate ultimately comes down to audiences, artists, and the industry deciding where ethical boundaries should exist.
The global spotlight on African music may be brighter than ever. But Basa believes the next phase will depend not only on talent, but on whether African artists and industries can build sustainable infrastructure, control their own narratives, and expand beyond the genres the world already recognizes.
Because Africa’s story, he says, is still much bigger than the playlists currently dominating the charts.
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