When Adekunle Gold stepped onto the stage at the newly renovated Wole Soyinka Centre on Christmas Day, it felt like more than a concert — it felt like a cultural statement. Backed by a full orchestra and his band, The 79th Element, the sold-out show wasn’t just about sound; it was about elevation. Afrobeats, often reduced globally to rhythm and vibe, was presented with intention, structure, and quiet confidence. In that moment, Lagos wasn’t just hosting a show — it was asserting that its music deserves the same reverence as any genre on the world’s grandest stages.
🎶 But beyond the celebrity sightings and surprise appearances from stars like Olamide and Davido lies the deeper meaning: this was about growth. Growth of an artist who understands timing, growth of an industry learning to honour its craft, and growth of an audience ready for more than just noise. Across the world, people crave experiences that feel thoughtful and earned, especially in seasons meant for reflection. That’s why this night lingers — it wasn’t just entertainment, it was proof that African music is no longer asking for space; it’s confidently taking it.
His fashion look carried quiet luxury rather than excess, with hints of heritage through rich textures and regal tones often associated with Nigerian craftsmanship. While specific designer credits were not officially confirmed Jaiyeorie spots Lisa Folawiyo, his styling aligned with bespoke Nigerian tailoring houses and high-fashion local labels he frequently champions, reinforcing Adekunle Gold’s identity as an artist who treats fashion not as costume, but as an extension of his artistry and cultural confidence.
There’s a quiet power in watching an artist take a stage not just as a performer, but as a narrator of shared memory — and that’s what Adekunle Gold did on that night. At a venue steeped in cultural history, his set wasn’t just music; it felt like a conversation between Lagos and itself, between who we were last December and who we’ve allowed ourselves to become this year. The presence of peers like Adewale Ayuba, Olamide and Davido didn’t just add star value — it signaled respect, continuity, and community, as if this wasn’t a solo journey but a collective acknowledgment of artistry lived in rhythm and time. It reminded people that music can be ceremonial, not just commercial — an experience that hums beneath the surface of joy rather than shouting for it.
In a season full of noise, this concert wasn’t loud because it needed to be — it was compelling because it felt familiar in the bones. There’s an unspoken way music knits people together: not through spectacle, but through recognition. People didn’t just attend — they remembered. And maybe that’s the meaningful current beneath this moment: when we gather around sound that carries our own stories, what are we really celebrating — the concert, or the quiet way it makes us feel at home with ourselves?
In a year full of moments that tried to define us, what part of this concert — the music, the setting, the shared memory — do you think lingers longest in the heart?
✍️“feel free to disagree in the comments
👀 ☝️👆 & let JAIYEORIE know what U think!”
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