By Ayotunde ‘Twitch’ Fabamwo, Creative Entrepreneur and Founder of House of Twitch
Afrobeats has spent the last decade becoming one of the biggest pop sounds in the world. But as it’s travelled beyond Lagos—to London, Toronto, Amsterdam and beyond—it’s gotten richer, more diverse, and a whole lot more crowded. These days, standing out isn’t just about writing a good tune. You need an identity that feels like yours and yours alone.
Within the UK’s Afrobeats scene, that search has taken different forms. Kojo Funds built his identity through the rawness of early mixtapes, Not3s through melodic instinct and crossover appeal, while Odeal has steadily blurred the boundaries between Afrobeats, R&B and alternative soul. A newer generation of artists, like Chiff Karisma, is shaping its own voice within an increasingly diverse UK Afrobeats scene. For him, that pursuit runs through just about everything he does.
Chiff Karisma isn’t trying to reinvent Afrobeats. If anything, he seems comfortable working right inside it. Repetition drives a lot of his music, but it never sounds mechanical. Instead, familiar rhythms gradually build up steam, creating a groove that rewards you for staying with the track—rather than rushing straight to the chorus.
What makes his approach special is how different influences just sit together. The rhythmic language of his Edo heritage is always present, while production shaped by the British multicultural music scene brings a broader contemporary feel. Neither side fights for attention. They just form a sound that feels whole. Karisma doesn’t chase obvious peaks. His songs don’t rely on dramatic beat switches or oversized hooks. They move through layered percussion, melodic repetition, and subtle texture shifts. The rhythm carries the emotional weight. In a genre built on groove, that feels patient without ever losing steam.
That emphasis on rhythm is particularly evident in “No Want Wahala”. Built around the familiar Nigerian phrase “no wahala”, the song hits because of its directness. No elaborate metaphors are getting in the way. The repeated refrain works both as a hook and as part of the track’s rhythmic skeleton. It feels communal; the phrase gathers weight through repetition, pushing the groove forward instead of stopping it for storytelling.
In contrast, another track, “Naked”, shows a different side of his craft. Instead of leaning on big emotional confessions, the song explores intimacy through subtle melodic phrasing. Karisma is not a vocalist driven by technical exhibitionism. He prefers controlled melodies, measured delivery, and understated emotional shifts. His performances rarely compete with the production; instead, they become another instrument within it.
That said, there are moments where a bit more emotional contrast could really elevate things. His instinct for composure sometimes sands off the rough edges—the very edges that make great records stick with you. The best Afrobeats artists right now understand that vulnerability often needs friction. Karisma occasionally seems hesitant to let a song get genuinely uncomfortable, even when the subject matter might call for it.
In the production, his personality shines through. He doesn’t treat British influence as a shortcut. Instead, he absorbs elements of UK electronic music, Afro-house, and urban production without letting them erase the rhythmic identity of his Nigerian roots. The arrangements stay spacious. He rarely overcrowds his mixes with unnecessary bells and whistles. Percussion stays front and centre, while synths and electronic textures expand the emotional range rather than dominate it. It’s sophisticated production, not because it’s flashy, but because it knows the value of restraint.
That same philosophy seems to guide his wider artistic identity too. Outside the studio, Karisma has steadily built a name in the UK live scene—through independent shows and self-run events, not just online hype. It mirrors his recordings: gradual, deliberate, and rooted in real connection rather than quick exposure. And there’s something refreshingly unfashionable about that. In an industry obsessed with speed, Karisma’s work seems driven by a different logic—one that values consistency over spectacle. His own words — “those who move with patience avoid unnecessary pain” — reflect the way he approaches his craft. You can hear it in the pacing of his songs as much as in his lyrics.
Perhaps the most interesting thing about his music is that he refuses to treat cultural duality as a conflict. A lot of artists working between African traditions and Western scenes treat those influences as a tension or a displacement. Karisma treats them as complementary inheritances. His Edo roots give him a clear anchor, while the openness of the British African scene broadens his palette. The result is a musical identity that feels culturally coherent. It doesn’t appear that he’s trying to reinvent Afrobeats or go head-to-head with the genre’s biggest names. Instead, he continues refining a personal musical language shaped by two traditions, without choosing one over the other.
Whether that language will eventually produce a defining breakthrough remains uncertain. What is certain is that Karisma has already found something more valuable than a passing trend: his artistic temperament. He trusts rhythm over excess, atmosphere over volume, and authenticity over performance. That doesn’t always make perfect records, but it consistently makes honest ones.
If you’re looking beyond the genre’s established stars, Chiff Karisma already makes a convincing case for closer attention. If he continues on his current trajectory, he could well become one of the more distinctive voices in the next wave of Afrobeats.
