If you’re calling it a trend you’ve already missed it
Unless you’ve been living under a soundproof bunker for the last decade, you’ve probably noticed that African culture is no longer “breaking through”, it’s everywhere. From chart-topping Afrobeat tracks to fashion week runways and museum retrospectives, what was once treated as peripheral is now the pulse of global creativity. But here’s what’s even more exciting. We’re not just seeing Africa on the world stage, we’re finally seeing it in detail.
Enter Salatiel. Not the face of some monocultural “Afrobeats” wave, but a Cameroonian artist drawing from deeper, sharper, more regionally specific roots. His latest track, “Fine Pikin”, doesn’t water anything down. It leans into Bendskin and Bikutsi, two rhythms born of Cameroon’s urban grit and traditional ceremonies, and fuses them with a modern sensibility that still feels grounded, not polished for export. This isn’t music trying to get in the door. It’s music that knows it’s already at the centre. Because that’s the shift we’re witnessing now. For years, African creativity was filtered through Western frameworks: sampled, styled, sometimes celebrated, often mislabelled. But the narrative has flipped. It’s no longer about acceptance or crossover. The real story is the rise of artists who never needed permission in the first place, and now have the visibility, infrastructure and global audience to move without compromise.
Salatiel represents that momentum. Based in Cameroon but heard far beyond it, he’s not just making catchy tracks. He’s part of a generation of artists reclaiming sonic heritage and reshaping it in real time. “Fine Pikin” carries a cultural density that can’t be measured in minutes. It’s rhythmic history made portable, something you can dance to without realising you’re moving to decades of tradition.
And here’s where things get even more interesting. As African music gains traction internationally, what’s rising isn’t just popularity, it’s complexity. We’re no longer talking about “Afrobeats” as a singular genre. We’re talking about Alté, Asakaa, Gengetone, Amapiano, Bongo Flava, Bendskin. Entire ecosystems with their own styles, codes, slang and sonic palettes. The global audience is slowly catching on, beginning to appreciate the differences between a Lagos club banger and a Cameroonian street anthem. The surface is cracking. The subtext is seeping through.
This is where our focus lies. Not just in following the rise of African sounds, but in tracing the nuance. We want to cover the layers, the hyperlocal textures, the intergenerational conversations, the shifts in how artists self-represent. It’s not about spotlighting talent when it becomes globally palatable, but about recognising the networks of meaning behind every kick drum and colour palette.
From South London to São Paulo, from Nairobi to Naples, there’s a growing recognition that African creativity isn’t an influence, it’s a source code. Whether in the form of genre-bending sound, radical fashion design or experimental visual arts, the continent’s impact is not a cultural detour. It’s the main road. You can hear it in the way Western pop now borrows its percussive bounce. You can see it in the way editorial fashion campaigns mimic its styling cues. You can feel it in the urgency of artists like Salatiel, who don’t need to shout to be heard. They just keep moving forward.