By Owoeye Olukorede
When some artists say “I always prepared for this moment” or “I wasn’t surprised I blew”, you hear the lies in their vowels. Their breath patterns immediately betray them, exposing their loyalty to luck over strategy, and cluelessness to sustaining momentum. When Mavo told me, “Winning has never surprised me because I plan to succeed. I’ve always believed in what I’m building, and now that it’s getting the attention it deserves, I’m grateful, not shocked. Fail to plan, plan to fail. That’s always been the mindset”, I hear a strong “no be lie” in my spirit. I believed it.
One of my first encounters with Mavo’s existence was through a 2024 tweet from Jaye of the chaotic producer collective 44DB. He makes mention of an artist from ‘one of these private unis’ that has a community and a lot of love but isn’t quite there yet, and needs work on his vocals and mixing. He says it’d take him next level. He indicates somewhere in the comments that he speaks of Mavo, and I dive in. Sitting down with the artist in question a year later, it’s obvious. Easy to see. To hear. The potential. The assurance. The effect of work. The belief.
Kilo. Mavo. Bizzy. Kilolo. Kilobizzy. Marvin Oseremen is a man that answers many names, and rocks many worlds. Known for holding the country spell bound with his hit song Escaladizzy, he effortlessly stitches Afrobeats elements with street influenced sounds, and has a knack for minting the coolest slangs like currency. Lamba, as it’s called in Afrobeats, seems to come easy to him, and he’s in the process of weaponizing it. He’s done it with Escaladizzy, and he’s gearing up to do it again.
I always chase perspective, so I ask Mavo what his biggest problem was, getting to this point. His answer? Making content. “Putting myself out there visually. Videos, clips, stuff like that wasn’t always natural to me. I’ve always been about the music first. But in this game, you’ve got to show up in more ways than one. Figuring that out, adapting to that side of things, that was the real learning curve.” I’m intrigued. He knows his strengths. He recognizes his weaknesses, and audits them like assets.
Even his humanity feels deliberate. He’s calculated. Calmer than. He doesn’t rush to pick things up, or drop them. I can tell his throat is dry and he needs a drink from the heavy smoking as we set up to shoot, but I also watch him calculate the decision and effort required to get up and go to the fridge. He’s very aware, and his responses intrigue me. They leave me fascinated at how he receives his reality.
For example, I ask him about motion. What point after Escaladizzy dropped he realized he was onto serious motion and reception, and he says “It came before Escaladizzy, actually. My songs were already doing 100K independently. I’d step on stage and see 5,000 people shouting my lyrics back at me. That kind of thing changes how you see yourself. That was when I knew I was on the right track. The noise hadn’t gotten loud yet, but the motion had started.”
I imagine how his journey has been so far. Blowing into the mainstream with Escaladizzy. Living the life of a performing artist. Meeting his heroes and disliking some of them along the way. All while still being in university. I ask him his favorite co-sign. He highlights Zlatan, and Santi. “Zanku hit me on FaceTime and even invited me to his yard, that was a moment for me. Not just because of the name, but because of the motivation. That kind of energy from people I rate? It keeps me locked in. And shout out Santi because he put the whole world on to me.”
Oddities linger in my mind during the time we spend together. I spend a large part of our interview wondering why he’s carrying a school bag comfortably by 10pm with no plans to go anywhere or do anything but exist. I’m a lazy person, so I naturally despise extras. School bags? Put them in my bad books, or put my bad books in them. Whatever. It was effortless for Mavo though, and he highlights it.
“The burti dey body.” He says. “My swag isn’t something I picked up — it’s just there. It’s in how I move, how I talk, how I dress, how I sound. The fashion side of things is coming, for sure. NWMFPP is around the corner. Just watch.”
My favorite thing to realize during the interview is that he’s co-ordinated. A weapon like that gets you really far. Students of the game don’t fail the class, and Mavo’s acing the test. He understands most of it. From Lamba to unique aura, style to swag, music to presence, he’s done his homework. It’s evident when I ask him how he deals with the pressure of being one of the breakout stars of the year and what he feels is next for him. He goes off.
“I think about the game a lot. Music business is a game — so I treat it like one. You can’t take anything personal. Just learn, adapt, and win. That’s how I move. The pressure’s there, but pressure only bursts pipes when they’re not built for it. Me? I’m built different. I charge it to the game and keep going.”
“The love, the co-signs, the streams, the reactions, I appreciate every bit of it. But none of it caught me off guard. I’ve been ready for this. I knew the music was going to connect eventually because it’s real. I made peace early with the fact that not everyone will get it at first. But the people who do? They go all in. That’s who I make it for. So yeah. Escaladizzy II and Kilometer II, that’s what’s next. Burti dey load ifa.”
Mavo’s existence in the game highlights a new angle for the game, in my opinion. He redraws the map, or at least can decide to. First of all, we need a new Next-Gen, as we can’t keep referring to Rema and Ayra as Next Gen artists. We also can’t keep grouping artists blowing up in 2025 with those that blew up in 2019.
He has the necessary difference to draw that line. His swag, access and lamba put him up as something new, fresh. He could draw that line. He could be the hit maker that makes that clear distinction. He can mark a new timeline. And like Rema, the one who draws the line will lead the next generation.
