In a sit-down with Afrobeats Intelligence, Nigerian dancehall star Inetimi Odon, aka Timaya, shared the story of his rise—from the streets of Port Harcourt to becoming one of Africa’s most recognisable music stars.
With a mix of humour and honesty, the singer, who began his solo career in 2005, takes a hard look at today’s music scene, drawing clear lines between the industry now and the one he came up in.
Timaya expressed nostalgia for the authenticity of older music, saying today’s songs often feel disconnected and commercially driven, with many artists relying on songwriters who prioritise trends over true expression.
“It’s an entirely different era. I miss the old music, not even just from my own time. I’m talking about songs like Alex Zitto’s Tickle Me- Put on Your Dancing Shoes’—you know, those kinds of melodies. They came from the heart.
“These days, I don’t believe most artistes really mean what they’re saying in their songs. It just doesn’t connect. There’s a misinterpretation somewhere—probably because so many artistes now rely on songwriters. And these songwriters aren’t necessarily giving you music that fits you; they’re giving you what they think will sell. Then you’re expected to ‘body’ the song and carry it like it’s yours.”
The 44-year-old singer reminisced about the discipline that defined old-school music-making.
“At that time, you had to get it right. It wasn’t like now, where you can afford to do take after take. Once you entered the studio, you needed to be sure of what you were doing because you were paying by the hour.”
“Back in the day, studio time was precious. You had to rehearse, you had to get your lyrics right before stepping into the booth. Now, anyone can record from the comfort of their home. Your parents can buy you studio equipment and speakers, and you could go viral on TikTok the next day,” the singer said.
Made ₦500K From First Album, Hit ₦24M From Second
Timaya’s hustle started with grit, belief, and pure street wisdom. Recalling how he sold his first album, ‘True Story,’ for ₦500,000 after getting priced as low as ₦45,000 by other marketers, he said, “Some told me 45K, others said 25K. When one finally offered me 500K, everyone in the bus thought I was lying.”
He revealed that he took the money and, with strategic savvy, pirated his own album to ensure wide circulation.
“Because this guy doesn’t have the strength to push. But these other guys have the strength to push. So I paid N11,000 to pirate it myself. That was how the album blew.”
Following that grassroots success, his second album, ‘Gift and Grace,’ released in 2008, fetched him an advance of ₦24 million from a new marketer.
“I told him I wanted 25. He said 18. We argued. He eventually paid 24 million. The next morning, he sent 11 million first. I had already finished the album.
“The same day, I went to the studio and recorded ‘I don blow, Timaya has blown from Port Harcourt, I break into their Lagos.’ That’s how ‘Timaya don blow’ was born.”
Promoting One Song Now Costs $100K
Despite his nostalgia, Timaya says he has recognised the industry’s new realities. In comparison, his old-school marketing involved grassroots strategies and hustle.
“To promote one song today, you need nothing less than $100,000,” he revealed. And you’re not even certain it will blow. It’s crazy.
“At the time, just to promote in Encomium magazine, you needed 750K for two pages. But if I cause chaos and drop a song, I’d get 23 pages for free.”
Meanwhile, on 25 October 2024, Timaya expressed concern over the rising expenses involved in producing and promoting music videos, which he said now surpass ₦100 million.
The singer noted that the increasing financial demands of music production and promotion have tied his passion for music more closely to money.
He remarked, “Even though it’s easier to become popular these days, do you know how hard it is to get your song on the radio? You could be making music in your room like a madman today, and it might just go viral.”
No Plan B – Music Was My Only Option
Timaya, speaking further, revealed that his dogged passion for music came from a deep belief that it was his only escape from poverty.
“I never had a Plan B. I never had a job. I’ve never earned a salary. I told myself my music must buy my pot, pants, and spoon.”
He used the first advance he received wisely. “With the 500K, I rented one room and bought a power bike, a Sony Ericsson, and okrika (second-hand) clothes from Yaba. I packaged my life.”
He revealed that throughout his life as a young person, he never applied for a job or got employment.
For him, he said, music wasn’t just a mere hobby. It was survival and all that he leaned on.
I didn’t have a fallback plan. I’ve never been employed in my life. This was it for me.”
From Backup Singer To Afrobeats Icon – Recalls Singing For Eedris Abdulkareem
Before becoming Timaya, he paid his dues as a backup singer for Nigerian music icon Eedris Abdulkareem, famous for his ‘Jaga Jaga’. “I used to follow him around. I learnt a lot during those years. It helped shape my stagecraft.”
“There was no plug. I did it myself. I didn’t have any label. I wasn’t signed. Everything I own, 100% of my catalogue, is mine. No label from the dribble.
“Dem Mama was a movement,” Timaya stated. “There was nobody like me. When we came out, we weren’t smiling. I almost fought. We weren’t trying to fit in; we came from pain.”
ODI Massacre Birthed ‘Dem Mama’ – Timaya
The Odi massacre occurred on 20 November 1999, when the Nigerian military launched an assault on the predominantly Ijaw town of Odi in Bayelsa State.
The attack took place amid ongoing tensions in the Niger Delta, rooted in disputes over indigenous claims to oil resources and demands for environmental justice.
According to Timaya, his breakout song ‘Dem Mama’ was born out of the pain of the Odi Massacre.
“That event never left me. It still haunts us. We lost people. That’s why I sang it. We turned pain into power.”
Unlike modern-day fame driven by digital trends, Timaya believes his fanbase is deeply rooted. “My fanbase is organic. They know me. They love me. I didn’t pay to trend. I’m not faceless. They feel my journey.”
‘I’m Still Crazy, Just More Refined’
Timaya acknowledges his past as volatile, even chaotic.
“At some point, I was the most controversial artist. Always in drama. People used to call me a mad man. But come on, I was in my 20s, rich, with no responsibilities. How did you expect me to act?”
While he’s matured, he still embraces his edge. “I’m still that guy, just more refined.”
“I switch phases when I no longer feel the current one,” he said. “I’m too aware of myself. There’s no do or die in anything. Life is simple. When it’s time to move, I know.”
The singer also counters the idea that it’s harder now to be independent. “It’s easier now. Your father can buy you studio equipment. One bad song on TikTok, and boom, you’re trending. Before, to get airplay, you had to know people. Now, all you need is data.”
Timaya’s greatest asset is his extensive music catalogue. “I have eight albums. My colleagues who signed to labels don’t own theirs. Now that labels want to work with me, I have leverage. My catalogue keeps me secure.”
Credit: Channels TV
With a mix of humour and honesty, the singer, who began his solo career in 2005, takes a hard look at today’s music scene, drawing clear lines between the industry now and the one he came up in.
Timaya expressed nostalgia for the authenticity of older music, saying today’s songs often feel disconnected and commercially driven, with many artists relying on songwriters who prioritise trends over true expression.
“It’s an entirely different era. I miss the old music, not even just from my own time. I’m talking about songs like Alex Zitto’s Tickle Me- Put on Your Dancing Shoes’—you know, those kinds of melodies. They came from the heart.
“These days, I don’t believe most artistes really mean what they’re saying in their songs. It just doesn’t connect. There’s a misinterpretation somewhere—probably because so many artistes now rely on songwriters. And these songwriters aren’t necessarily giving you music that fits you; they’re giving you what they think will sell. Then you’re expected to ‘body’ the song and carry it like it’s yours.”
The 44-year-old singer reminisced about the discipline that defined old-school music-making.
“At that time, you had to get it right. It wasn’t like now, where you can afford to do take after take. Once you entered the studio, you needed to be sure of what you were doing because you were paying by the hour.”
“Back in the day, studio time was precious. You had to rehearse, you had to get your lyrics right before stepping into the booth. Now, anyone can record from the comfort of their home. Your parents can buy you studio equipment and speakers, and you could go viral on TikTok the next day,” the singer said.
Made ₦500K From First Album, Hit ₦24M From Second
Timaya’s hustle started with grit, belief, and pure street wisdom. Recalling how he sold his first album, ‘True Story,’ for ₦500,000 after getting priced as low as ₦45,000 by other marketers, he said, “Some told me 45K, others said 25K. When one finally offered me 500K, everyone in the bus thought I was lying.”
He revealed that he took the money and, with strategic savvy, pirated his own album to ensure wide circulation.
“Because this guy doesn’t have the strength to push. But these other guys have the strength to push. So I paid N11,000 to pirate it myself. That was how the album blew.”
Following that grassroots success, his second album, ‘Gift and Grace,’ released in 2008, fetched him an advance of ₦24 million from a new marketer.
“I told him I wanted 25. He said 18. We argued. He eventually paid 24 million. The next morning, he sent 11 million first. I had already finished the album.
“The same day, I went to the studio and recorded ‘I don blow, Timaya has blown from Port Harcourt, I break into their Lagos.’ That’s how ‘Timaya don blow’ was born.”
Promoting One Song Now Costs $100K
Despite his nostalgia, Timaya says he has recognised the industry’s new realities. In comparison, his old-school marketing involved grassroots strategies and hustle.
“To promote one song today, you need nothing less than $100,000,” he revealed. And you’re not even certain it will blow. It’s crazy.
“At the time, just to promote in Encomium magazine, you needed 750K for two pages. But if I cause chaos and drop a song, I’d get 23 pages for free.”
Meanwhile, on 25 October 2024, Timaya expressed concern over the rising expenses involved in producing and promoting music videos, which he said now surpass ₦100 million.
The singer noted that the increasing financial demands of music production and promotion have tied his passion for music more closely to money.
He remarked, “Even though it’s easier to become popular these days, do you know how hard it is to get your song on the radio? You could be making music in your room like a madman today, and it might just go viral.”
No Plan B – Music Was My Only Option
Timaya, speaking further, revealed that his dogged passion for music came from a deep belief that it was his only escape from poverty.
“I never had a Plan B. I never had a job. I’ve never earned a salary. I told myself my music must buy my pot, pants, and spoon.”
He used the first advance he received wisely. “With the 500K, I rented one room and bought a power bike, a Sony Ericsson, and okrika (second-hand) clothes from Yaba. I packaged my life.”
He revealed that throughout his life as a young person, he never applied for a job or got employment.
For him, he said, music wasn’t just a mere hobby. It was survival and all that he leaned on.
I didn’t have a fallback plan. I’ve never been employed in my life. This was it for me.”
From Backup Singer To Afrobeats Icon – Recalls Singing For Eedris Abdulkareem
Before becoming Timaya, he paid his dues as a backup singer for Nigerian music icon Eedris Abdulkareem, famous for his ‘Jaga Jaga’. “I used to follow him around. I learnt a lot during those years. It helped shape my stagecraft.”
“There was no plug. I did it myself. I didn’t have any label. I wasn’t signed. Everything I own, 100% of my catalogue, is mine. No label from the dribble.
“Dem Mama was a movement,” Timaya stated. “There was nobody like me. When we came out, we weren’t smiling. I almost fought. We weren’t trying to fit in; we came from pain.”
ODI Massacre Birthed ‘Dem Mama’ – Timaya
The Odi massacre occurred on 20 November 1999, when the Nigerian military launched an assault on the predominantly Ijaw town of Odi in Bayelsa State.
The attack took place amid ongoing tensions in the Niger Delta, rooted in disputes over indigenous claims to oil resources and demands for environmental justice.
According to Timaya, his breakout song ‘Dem Mama’ was born out of the pain of the Odi Massacre.
“That event never left me. It still haunts us. We lost people. That’s why I sang it. We turned pain into power.”
Unlike modern-day fame driven by digital trends, Timaya believes his fanbase is deeply rooted. “My fanbase is organic. They know me. They love me. I didn’t pay to trend. I’m not faceless. They feel my journey.”
‘I’m Still Crazy, Just More Refined’
Timaya acknowledges his past as volatile, even chaotic.
“At some point, I was the most controversial artist. Always in drama. People used to call me a mad man. But come on, I was in my 20s, rich, with no responsibilities. How did you expect me to act?”
While he’s matured, he still embraces his edge. “I’m still that guy, just more refined.”
“I switch phases when I no longer feel the current one,” he said. “I’m too aware of myself. There’s no do or die in anything. Life is simple. When it’s time to move, I know.”
The singer also counters the idea that it’s harder now to be independent. “It’s easier now. Your father can buy you studio equipment. One bad song on TikTok, and boom, you’re trending. Before, to get airplay, you had to know people. Now, all you need is data.”
Timaya’s greatest asset is his extensive music catalogue. “I have eight albums. My colleagues who signed to labels don’t own theirs. Now that labels want to work with me, I have leverage. My catalogue keeps me secure.”
Credit: Channels TV
