Mr Eazi Talks Inspiration, Entrepreneurship And Boredom

Afrobeats icon Oluwatosin Ajibade, better known as Mr Eazi, is always busy.

One of the most-streamed African artists in the world, the Grammy-winning musician and serial entrepreneur made the Forbes Africa “30 under 30” list in 2018, and he hasn’t slowed down since.

Mr Eazi’s musical journey is somewhat unusual, as the Nigerian-born artist initially turned to music as a hobby, a way to escape from the pressures of school and his many entrepreneurial endeavors.

In 2019, Eazi founded emPawa Africa, a label and publishing company designed to nurture and support African artists. Three years later, Mr Eazi launched Zagadat Capital, an investment fund that mainly invests in African-founded companies.

For his 2023 album, “The Evil Genius,” Mr Eazi commissioned a range of African artists to create pieces to match all 16 tracks on the album, manifesting the energy of his music into physical works of art.

Mr Eazi spoke to me about the creative process behind “The Evil Genius,” his insatiable urge to create, invest and collaborate, and the importance of having fun.

What is the source of your energy?

I’m not gonna lie to you, I’m heavily driven by boredom. Music was the first time I did only one thing — for two years straight, from 2016 to 2018, it was just hyperfocus on the music. I think music helped me to control the boredom.

I’m trying to be better at finding hobbies, but the way my brain is wired, I start to see a problem and a solution, and then it becomes a temptation for another venture.

I think I’m just in love with the journey of having an idea and seeing it turn into something.

Do you see yourself as more of an entrepreneur or an artist?

I see it as one, because one cannot live without the other, in some sense — at least for me. Lately, I’ve been streamlining my business activity around entertainment and then it becomes like a flywheel where everything is connected.

If I invest in a movie director’s film, that’s me as an entrepreneur putting down the investment, but then maybe I’m doing the music scoring, and I’m also coming up with ideas.

For instance, everybody that’s spoken to me about investing in a movie doesn’t just want me to be part of the project because of money. They say, “we think you would understand as a creative what we’re trying to achieve, and you’ll know where to hit the brakes versus where to bring in your ideas.”

Are you working on an entrepreneurial project at this moment?

What I’m working on right now is building around African entertainment. I’ve been obsessed with this for a while. I took Anita [Elberse]’s Harvard course, researching the business of entertainment media and sport to see how it’s been done in America.

During the course I learned about Disney, I learned about the NBA, all these different fields — I’m working on bringing everything together under one umbrella and start to invest more actively in African sports.

I’m researching and finalizing my investment strategy, but I have already started investing. In the Cape Town Tigers, for instance, and sponsoring the biggest football team in Rwanda, Rayon Sports.

I’m investing in an amateur boxing league in Ghana that presently has 5,000 people watching every two weeks. I’ve not figured out the business of boxing but I’m just excited by that, by figuring out how to put it all together — movies, music, sports and gaming.

There’s a lot of untapped creative potential in Africa that is hindered really by finance. There’s been exploitative scenarios.

There’s so many stories that need to be told. I could make lots of movies, work with a lot of artists and still be in that creative environment, but give value to investors and develop African talent and these industries in the process. It’s a lot of work.

That’s what excites me because it feels like I can be doing this all my life.

How has your approach to making music changed over the years as you became more successful?

It started to become less of a hobby, and more like work. Especially with the expectations that come from your fans, sort of like you owe them to put out this album and go on tour.

My brain started asking, “how are we going to take this to market?” I have a team that I need to pay. This can’t be just for fun, because now I have a responsibility to all these guys that believe in me.

The fun started to come back when I started [emPawa Africa] and I started to sign artists. I could live vicariously through them, especially when the artist is not yet known — it’s that purity of creativity.

It’s not like you’re trying to make this song sell a billion records. You’re just doing development. So I fell in love again.

That’s why, for “The Evil Genius,” I started to have a new relationship with music, where I start seeing music as like my journal. The music was my canvas — I never wanted to stop.

I was literally going to the studio every day. I recorded so many songs and I didn’t even want to send them for mixing and mastering, because for me it was just taking notes of my thoughts. My team had to ask me, “Are you trying to make a forever album?”

The art pieces for the album added a new form of expression for me. I can have all these emotions trapped not just in the instrumentals, but in these physical pieces, and to me that was just magical.

I’m grateful for finding a new sort of journey within the music, especially when I thought I had seen it all.

Would you say that you were inspired by mentoring these young artists?

It’s inspiration, but it’s also a recognition of a skill that I have. Especially because I never said I wanted to be an artist. I was just doing this to distract myself from my active mind as an entrepreneur.

This was my escape, so if your escape suddenly turns to this career and you have all these fans and expectations you start to feel like maybe there was no method to the madness, that maybe it was a fluke.

Then you start to see that skill go to mentoring new artists. Not just mentorship in the sense of giving advice, but actually creating the sound with the artists and selecting the songs that you think are the good songs. It rejuvenates you.

It’s like recognition that there is something there, not just some random fluke.

The Creative Process Behind ‘The Evil Genius’

In 2020, Mr. Eazi noticed the similarity behind the creative process of painting and his own approach to making music — some artists even listened to music while they worked, inspired by the energy of the songs.

While staying in a hotel in Cotonou, Benin, Mr. Eazi was struck by the work of Beninese painter Patricorel. He had just recorded “Legalize” and found that the piece perfectly mirrored the emotions of the song.

After reaching out to Patricorel, Mr. Eazi realized that physical artworks could provide companion pieces to his songs on “The Evil Genius” and began to commission artists, with the intention that “somebody could listen to my music without me telling them what the music was about. Just paint the feeling and the emotions.”

Mr. Eazi describes a deep creative collaboration between himself and those artists, who often surprised him with their interpretations of his music.

Which interpretation did you find the most surprising and revealing?

The first one that comes to mind is the work by Tesprit. He uses discarded flip-flops for his work and he said he was inspired when he was listened to the song called “Mandela.”

He found this picture of [Nelson] Mandela and a kid on his lap, and he had this vision of me and my dad.

When we were talking about inspiration, it made me realize that even though I might not have had an intense speaking relationship with my dad, I have a very kind of deep, spiritual admiration for him.

We might not go watch football games every Sunday together, but there was this deeper feeling I had about my dad that I hadn’t even expressed to myself, but he heard it in the part of the song where I say, “Baba tori me jaja gbera, Kin ma r’alokoba — Father stand up and fight for me, so I won’t fall into this pit.”

Not to be too extreme, but almost seeing my dad as a godlike figure that sacrifices for you. Physical, financial, and spiritual sacrifice. Sharing wisdom, even sharing vulnerability.

Not a god in the sense of being all-powerful, but a very relatable kind of figure.

A vulnerable figure, like Jesus?

Exactly, but I didn’t want to say that because I didn’t want you to quote me [laughs].

One of the most personal songs on the album, Olúwa Jọ̀, was dedicated to your mother. What did she think of it?

First off, she was happy because it was gospel. She heard that chorus and she’s been wanting me to do gospel music.

That was the first time she heard her voice on a music recording, so it was really cool for her. I think she was so excited that she missed the emotion that was in the song.

I remember listening to that song on a train trip from Paris to London, just listening to the song the entire time. I had to dry my eyes and make sure no one could see that I was crying, it was just so emotional for me. It’s such a short song, I probably listened to it on that trip a minimum of a hundred times.

I’ll always cherish that song, it’s my gift to her. The painting is one of my favorites.

Are you thinking about working on another personal album?

Not right now. I started a group with my friend DJ Edu, ChopLife SoundSystem. That was the energy I felt after making “The Evil Genius.” I just wanted to party.

This is more of a curator role. With the first album “Mzansi Chronicles,” I went out to South Africa — I was in Cape Town for 30 days and I invited all the producers. I picked the beats and it was like I was a mad scientist, mixing, getting two people to collaborate.

There was none of the pressures that come with making music because I’m just having fun. It’s not Mr. Eazi’s album.

The next ChopLife album is gonna be called “Lagos Traffic” and I’m going to Lagos tomorrow. When I put the album out, I want to work with artists.

One of the things I was trying to do last year was to have a party in a gallery. Find one that had a lot of character and then have the artworks in display, whether digitally or physically, and play the music with the ChopLife SoundSystem mask.

I’ve collaborated with an amazing artist called Dennis Osadebe who has worked on the mask and we’re making the 3D version, which will also be on display. I would wear the mask at the parties, like an African mask used for festivities.

When I’m making this ChopLife music, I don’t care about anything. I just care about having fun. That’s what the mask represents — this is the mask of nothing else matters, besides this freedom you feel.

The mask allows you to become a different character?

That’s it — it makes you become “Mr. ChopLife.”

This interview has been edited for length and clarity