Mavo:  Afrobeats’ Newcomers and The Crisis of Preparation

Afrobeats’ global expansion has opened doors at an unprecedented pace. New artists are stepping onto festival stages, international showcases, and headline slots far earlier in their careers than was once possible. But with that access has come a noticeable erosion of standards — particularly when it comes to live performances. Increasingly, poor showings are being excused under the familiar refrain of “they’re still new.” Mavo’s recent performances expose why that excuse no longer holds.

Being a newcomer to the mainstream is not, and has never been, a justification for bad performances. Neither is being niche, alternative, or stylistically unconventional. A performing artist’s job description is simple, even if execution is not: to perform. To entertain. To command a stage convincingly enough that a paying audience feels their time and money were respected.

Mavo occupies an interesting space within Afrobeats. His sound exists slightly outside the mainstream, and his fanbase mirrors that specificity. His core audience is largely teenage — young listeners drawn to artists like Zaylevelten, Eggertton, Scottyolorin, and others operating on the fringes of Nigeria’s pop ecosystem. Teenagers, historically, are easy to impress. But an artist positioned for a breakout moment is no longer performing solely for a niche. The moment mainstream visibility enters the picture, so do adult audiences, industry gatekeepers, and higher expectations. At that point, the margin for sloppiness disappears.

The components of a good live performance are not a mystery. It is a combination of fundamentals: stage presence, breath control, vocal delivery, costuming, stage design, audio quality, audience engagement, track sequencing, transitions, and choreography where applicable. None of these elements are optional. And yet, Mavo’s performances repeatedly falter across several of these axes. Vocals feel disengaged. Movement is half-hearted. Delivery is monotonous. The stage often looks like a place he is enduring rather than inhabiting.

What is more concerning than the performances themselves is how consistently they are excused — by fans, by management, and at times by the artist himself. This raises an uncomfortable question: have audience standards dropped, or have audiences simply stopped demanding more?

History offers little sympathy for the argument that youth or inexperience should soften expectations. When Rema performed at Homecoming Lagos in 2019, he was 19 years old, armed with a limited budget, minimal stage design, and simple costuming. What he did have was preparation. He sang his songs fully. He commanded the stage. He delivered a show worthy of a paying audience. Ayra Starr’s Afrochella debut in 2021— also at 19 — told a similar story: powerful vocals, confident stage presence, and organic engagement that held the crowd. In both cases, talent met hunger, and hunger met discipline.

Those early performances were not accidents. They were the result of painstaking preparation and a clear understanding that performance is labour. Youth was not an excuse. Fatigue was not an excuse. Novelty was not an excuse. And that seriousness is precisely what accounts for their longevity and sustained success today.

The argument that standards have simply changed in the streaming era is tempting but insufficient. It is true that saturation has altered the economics of attention. Artists no longer need to impress everyone to make money; they only need to impress enough people. But even within this reality, examples abound that being new does not require being unprepared. Artists like Qing Madi, Fave, and Solis — also early in their mainstream journeys — consistently deliver competent, engaging performances. Preparation, effort, and care still matter when artists decide that they matter.

Mavo’s struggles are not confined to large stages or overwhelming crowds. As far back as October 2025, his performance at Spotify’s Greasy Tunes showcase raised red flags. On that stage, he appeared unable to hear his backing track, delivered lyrics monotonously, paused frequently, and projected visible boredom. And yet, the audience remained. Some even sang enthusiastically on his behalf. The response online was predictable: he was tired, he was young, he had just gone mainstream.

In that instance, Mavo’s manager publicly defended the performance, citing a 13-hour flight and multiple commitments as justification. Fatigue, it seemed, was enough to absolve a visibly subpar showing. But touring schedules, travel exhaustion, and tight turnarounds are not anomalies in live music— they are the job. Preparation accounts for them.

The artist’s own response to criticism following his December 16 headline show only deepened concerns. “i must not be michael jackson before u know im performing, dis is my style. if u no like am dey go! i will not be frank ocean for u oga!” he tweeted. Beyond the flippancy, the statement revealed a fundamental misunderstanding of audience feedback. The critique was not asking for spectacle or imitation; it was simply asking for effort. Rather than portraying artistic confidence, his response landed more like defensiveness, compounded by a lack of media training and professional self-awareness.

That December headline offered further evidence. From the late start to the scattered arrivals of several advertised guests, the evening was plagued by organizational lapses. Mavo’s performance itself leaned heavily on poor lip-syncing, half-hearted dancing, and an audience tasked with carrying the vocal load. While Mavo has never positioned himself as a vocalist, singing songs fully during a live performance is not an unreasonable expectation.

These issues extend back months. At an intimate KRL Sessions performance in October 2025, backed by a live band, Mavo breezed through his catalogue with little conviction. The performance drew public criticism from Portable, who faulted Mavo’s reliance on auto-tune and questioned his live ability. Portable is a polarizing figure, but his critique landed because the footage supported it. The performance was indeed below par.

This points to a familiar pattern — one that mirrors Afrobeats’ broader industry tensions. As with recent album rollout spectacles that outshine the music itself, performance standards are increasingly secondary to visibility, charts, and monetization. In the streaming era, Mavo does not need to be a compelling live performer to succeed financially. Streams pay regardless of stage presence. But this convenience comes at a cost.

Afrobeats has exploded into a global industry. What has evolved most rapidly is not necessarily the artistry, but the business surrounding it. Streaming platforms, brand partnerships, and international recognition have created unprecedented opportunity, but opportunity without discipline breeds complacency. If live performances continue to be treated as optional rather than essential, the genre risks hollowing out one of its most important cultural pillars. Being new is not the problem. Being unprepared is.