For Telz, 2025 hasn’t been loud. It’s been a year of quiet work, deep thought, and uncomfortable self-evaluation. “It’s been very confusing, actually,” he says with a small laugh. “I’m trying to be a better producer, in how I see myself compared to the people I look up to. I don’t even think I’m there yet, but I’m still working on it. Right now, I’m just focused on the quality of my beats. I’m getting there slowly.”
Since his breakout on Twice As Tall, Telz has evolved both as a sound and as a person. “The biggest change is confidence,” he admits. “Before, I used to have two minds walking into a studio — what am I going to do, what am I going to play? Now, I can walk into any camp and know exactly what to play. I’m confident in what I’ve done and in what I’ll do next.”
That confidence led to one of the biggest moments of the year — Big Time by Odumodublvck featuring Wizkid, a song that bridged rap and Afrobeats in a way only Telz could engineer. “I met Wiz in 2020, but we reconnected in 2023,” he recalls. “I told P.Priime to hit him up because I wanted to work with him again. Wiz is very open — he loves to experiment. One day, we started talking about Nigerian rappers, and I mentioned Odumodu and someone else. Wiz was like, ‘Oh yeah, I know both of them.’ I told him I had this song Odumodu and I made in 2022 — just verses, no chorus — and I played it for him.”
To Telz’s surprise, Wiz wanted to add melodies. “That’s not even how he usually works,” he says. “Normally, people put melodies for Wiz, and he adds lyrics. But this time, he was like, ‘Let me put some melodies.’ Then the next day, he came back and added lyrics.” The moment was emotional; Wiz had just lost his mother. “That’s why there’s that line, ‘Say mama go kpai, omo, aje, I no believe.’ It was a real, vulnerable time — and you can feel it in the record.”
For Telz, beats are personal diaries. “I make beats the same way Burna sings,” he explains. “If Burna’s feeling sad, he’s going to sing about it. Me too — I can’t make a banger when I never chop.” When Big Time first came to life, he wasn’t in a good place. “I was just low on vibration,” he says. “I started playing around with this arpeggio plugin on my phone, then added drums. Later, I saw Odumodu at Fireboy’s album party. We didn’t even know each other like that, but I told him, ‘Bro, I know say one day we go still meet.’ When I got home, I Googled him and thought, damn, this guy’s voice is so real.”
A few nights later, inspiration hit. “It was around 1 a.m., and I texted him, told him to pull up. He came straight from football — with his boots on,” Telz laughs. “That night, he told me about his life — not having a dad, having a daughter, everything. I told him, ‘Bro, put that on the song.’ That’s why Wiz loved it too. He said, ‘This guy sounds so real. Make me sef drop bars.’”
Seeing a rap-heavy track like Big Time top the charts in an Afrobeats season feels like vindication. “I’m happy, man,” he says. “I love melodic rap — you don’t need to give me the hardest bars in the world, just make it feel good. The way Odumodu rides the beat, it’s amazing.”
Even with the rap beefs — like Odumodu and Blaqbonez’s — Telz stays out of the noise. “I’m very unproblematic,” he says. “All that online stuff is social media. When it’s for the sport, it’s amazing. But once it goes deeper than that, I don’t get involved. I love a good rap beef — it keeps rappers sharp — but we don’t really have that long-lasting ‘not like us’ crowd here. People just want to be entertained for the moment.”
He’s had his fair share of intense sessions this year — from Burna Boy’s Dem Dey to Blaqbonez’s album and Odumodu’s Big Time. “Dem Dey was the most challenging,” he admits. “We went back and forth like twenty times between Logic and FL. Record something, tweak the beat, go back, record again. It was exhausting but worth it.”
His favorite production, though, remains Kabiyesi. “If anyone stops me and asks for my best production, it’s always going to be Kabiyesi,” he says. “Because of how much I love house music and how I twisted it to sound like me. People might not get it, but I know where I’m going.”
That idea of going somewhere most can’t see yet runs through everything he does. “I’ve taken myself out of some spaces because I realized not everyone understands the kind of producer I’m becoming,” he says. “Hopefully, one day they catch up.”
Balancing art and business is a daily negotiation. “If you can’t beat them, join them,” he laughs. “Rap in Nigeria doesn’t bring the money. You just have to blend with what’s working, but still add your own twist. Like Kabiyesi; it’s house, but it’s Telzy house.”
His creative process today is more collaborative. “I always start with drums. No matter how tired I am, I’ll always have drums,” he says. “Then Promise plays guitar, IK adds sax, and we build. That’s how Buy You Life came together with Burna, Phyno, Priest, everyone in the room.”
Recently, he’s been obsessed with Serum, a plugin that reshaped his sound. “I changed my laptop, downloaded Serum, and got presets from Splice,” he says. “I made Kabiyesi, Bundle by Bundle, and Buy You Life, all with Serum. It’s my favorite plugin right now.”
Still, early success comes with pressure. “Winning a Grammy that early affects you,” he confesses. “Before, when I had 500 followers, I could make any kind of beat. Now people expect a certain sound. I have so many ideas on my laptop that I haven’t finished because I know how people will judge them. Back then, I didn’t care; I’d just make a beat and move on. Now, I want it perfect.”
As he looks ahead, Telz is ready to release music under his own name, not as a singer, but as a curator. “I’m going to start dropping songs, working closely with artists,” he says. “I don’t like making a beat today and waiting five years for it to drop. I want to share my sound while it’s still fresh.” He’s already working with Tariq and has an R&B project in the works. “People don’t know how deep my R&B game is, but they’ll be surprised.”
He pauses before his final thought — one that feels as introspective as his music. “This year has been funny. People have changed. Everyone’s angrier, less patient. I wish people would give more grace to themselves and to others, even with music. There’s so much out there. Not everything is trash. Sometimes, you just need to listen.”
