By Aderinola Omotosho
Asake has never been one for quiet stages. Since breaking out in 2022 with his blend of Fuji-inspired vocals and Afrobeats rhythms, the Lagos-born artist has become one of the most dynamic voices in Nigerian music. His performances are usually high-energy — all movement, chants, and crowd euphoria. So when he appeared on NPR’s Tiny Desk, a platform known for intimate live sessions that strip artists down to their purest sound, fans knew they were about to see something different.
The 20-minute performance, released on October 24, had Asake performing fan favorites like Lonely at the Top, Peace Be Unto You, and Remember. The live band brought warmth and depth, with sax, percussion, and violin adding a new layer to his sound. It was vibrant, unfiltered, and undeniably alive. Every instrument felt intentional, every beat filled the room without drowning it. You could see Asake settling into the groove, smiling at his bandmates, clearly enjoying the moment in his own relaxed, confident way.
But not everyone was impressed. While many praised the set’s intimacy and the beauty of hearing his music live, others pointed out that Asake’s vocals weren’t as sharp as expected. On social media, several fans noted moments where he and his backup singers seemed slightly out of sync, especially during transitions. Some said it took away from the otherwise strong live energy, while others argued it made the performance feel more human, imperfect but real. It’s the kind of split reaction that follows most boundary-pushing moments in pop music: when an artist known for precision and polish dares to loosen up a little.
Still, it’s hard to ignore how significant the moment was. Tiny Desk isn’t about big production; it’s about connection. It strips artists down and forces them to rely on pure sound rather than spectacle. For Asake, this was a chance to show what his music sounds like when everything else fades, when it’s just voice, rhythm, and presence. It was a reminder that behind the hits and hype is a performer still discovering new ways to express himself.
Whether you loved the rawness or found it rough around the edges, one thing’s clear: Asake’s Tiny Desk was a reminder that live music doesn’t have to be perfect to hit deep. Sometimes, the magic is in the parts that don’t go exactly as planned.
