My Soundtrack: The Songs That Define My Life and Creative Process

When I was eight years old, my dad brought home a cassette tape of Sunny Ade’s greatest hits and declared it "essential family material." Nights of my childhood were filled with the lilting strum of the talking drum, my siblings and I choreographing uncoordinated dance routines in the living room. My mum would shake her head in mock disapproval, her laughter betraying her. Those nights taught me two important lessons. First, music is the direct line to the soul. Second, no matter how awkward you think you look, there’s joy in just dancing anyway.

Now, as a writer and hopeless romantic navigating the messy canvas of life and love, music hasn’t just stayed important. It’s become a soundtrack—a way I process moments, heartbreaks, and triumphs. I promise you, if you’ve ever cried in your room while Burna Boy’s “Alone” played softly in the background, then you know what I mean.

Track One: “African Queen” by 2Baba – For The Hopeless Romantic

There’s a reason “African Queen” will always be THE song of choice for weddings, date nights, and that one uncle who insists his playlist is better than a DJ. The minute it starts, with that melodious, soulful feel, you’re immediately taken to a place of unfiltered beauty, of pure adoration.

I first heard this song in secondary school, and let me tell you, every class crush suddenly featured in my daydreams. I imagined myself walking into a room, the wind miraculously catching my scarf (even though Abuja air is usually too stifling for that). Someone’s son would lock eyes with me across the room, just like in Nollywood movies, and boom: love everlasting.

While the song now lives in my playlist to remind me of the tender side of love, real romance has taught me it’s not all sunlit gazes and poetic declarations. Sometimes, it’s making Jollof that turns out more ‘smokey’ than anticipated. It’s arguing about who forgot to buy suya. Still, having “African Queen” play as the backdrop of my imagination has inspired a commitment to seeing beauty in the mundane and finding strength in gentleness—even if the scarf still refuses to flutter dramatically.

Track Two: Burna Boy’s “Ye” – For When You’re Writing Yourself Out of a Funk

They don’t tell you this enough, but not every chapter in life looks or sounds like an orchestral masterpiece. Some are gritty, raw, and honestly just…difficult. For me, there’s no better song to process all that “hard part of life stuff” than Burna Boy’s “Ye.”

I discovered this song during a brutal Lagos-to-Abeokuta bus ride where nothing was going my way. The morning had been chaotic, it rained heavily—my freshly done braids turned frizzy—and I was at my wit’s end. Sitting in the back of the molue, I shoved my earphones in frustration and decided to let Burna Boy dictate my feelings. What happened next? Pure transformation.

The beat alone is therapy. The message, though, is where the magic happens. It’s survival music. Proof you can navigate inconveniences, heartbreaks, or even writer’s block with your head high and your groove intact. These days, whenever I find myself staring at a blank Word document, overthinking if I should even exist as a writer, “Ye” reminds me that perfection is overrated. Keep going. Write the thing. Frizzy braids and all.

Track Three: Tiwa Savage’s “All Over” – Falling (and Tripping) in Love

Ah, romance and I go way back—a complex relationship neither of us seems willing to quit. Falling in love to me often feels like attempting to carry a basket of fufu and soup without spilling—not impossible, but unnecessarily complicated. Cue Tiwa Savage’s “All Over,” which encapsulates that giddy, heart-fluttering moment when everything feels rosy and you’re drunk on the possibility of something new.

A few years back, during a particularly golden London summer, I met someone who made Tiwa’s words even more potent. He worked at a bookshop, had an accent that made “where are you from?” sound like an Enid Blyton adventure, and we bonded over Maya Angelou and overpriced lattes. Somewhere between Shakespeare quotes and stolen glances, I played “All Over” constantly, hoping its melody could perfectly narrate the cheesy rom-com forming in my head.

Spoiler: It didn’t work out. We were too different—me with my jollof-rice-or-nothing energy and him with his persistent obsession with avocados. But Tiwa’s song still lived on as a reminder that the beginning of something, even when it doesn’t reach the “forever” stage, can be magical in its own right.

Track Four: Wizkid’s “Ojuelegba” – For Rediscovering Your Why

Here’s the real deal: life will humble you. No matter how shiny the external trappings of success, there are those moments when you have to sit with yourself and think, "Why am I doing this again?" For me, those internal interrogations often happen with Wizkid’s “Ojuelegba” playing in the background.

This song, a profound ode to hustle and perseverance, reminds me of my days in Lagos University, chasing dreams that felt enormous for one small-town girl from Abuja. I worked two part-time jobs, edited people’s CVs, and still somehow managed a full class load. And in those quiet reflective moments, after power cuts in student housing plunged everything into darkness, I’d play “Ojuelegba” to remind myself about my big-picture goals.

Wizkid’s journey from those Lagos streets to global stages is the proverbial fire that tells us "Look, you too can shine." But when those sparks feel too faint, “Ojuelegba” is the reminder I need that the grind might be ugly, but the results? Unbeatable. Sometimes, when I sit at my desk now, backlit by soft London rain, I wonder what my younger self would think of everything. I think she’d smile and play the track again.

Track Five: Asa’s “Bibanke” – A Love Letter to Vulnerability

You can’t have a soundtrack without a heartbreak anthem. And trust me, Asa’s “Bibanke” is as heartbreaking as love songs get. It’s the ultimate rainy-day-with-tea song, that one you play while staring wistfully out the window pretending you’re the protagonist of your own drama. (Pro tip: movie glasses optional.)

The first time I listened to this classic, I was in my early twenties, dealing with my first “he said let’s take a break, but I think he just ghosted” heartbreak. I didn’t just cry; I wept. You know the type where snot is involved and every tissue in the box suddenly conspires to be too thin? Yet somehow, in my overly dramatic state, it wasn’t depressing—it was cathartic.

“Bibanke” doesn’t just whisper to you about pain—it shouts at you to embrace it. To sit in your truth, broken pieces and all. Healing comes when you let the storm out, and Asa’s raw lyricism walks you through to the other side of that storm.

Encore: Building Your Own Soundtrack

Let me leave you with this: Life may throw plot twists worthy of Nollywood at you, but music? Music will always be there—a balm in chaos, a celebration in joy, a companion in solitude. My songs remind me of every version of myself I’ve ever been. The eight-year-old in the living room, spinning awkwardly to Sunny Ade. The London grad student falling for fictional rom-com moments. The writer figuring it out as she goes.

So build your own tapestry of sounds. Your soundtrack doesn’t need to be perfect, but it does need to be yours. Push play on the songs that make you dance, cry, dream, and—most importantly—believe. Because through all the messy, glorious chapters of life, one truth remains: the right song can make it all just a little better.

What’s on your soundtrack?