Halfway through another year, it falls on curators and culture journalists across the federation to spotlight the year’s best works. And while some believe that art shouldn’t be compared, in reality, it can, so long as objective criteria are applied to the best of the curators’ abilities. Writing about art that continuously strives towards the ideal implies that work closest to the zenith should be celebrated as often as possible. 

In the spirit of this time-honoured tradition, Culture Custodian has put together a list of the best songs of 2026—January to June. Beyond broad appeal and commercial success, we considered other factors like production quality, songwriting, genre relevance, experimentation, and that intangible je ne sais quoi making them click. For diversity, we limited inclusion to just one song per lead artist, although they could still appear multiple times via features and in the bonus section.  Features on non-Nigerian records were also ineligible (Rema’s MOVIESTAR missed out as a result), as were singles by African artists with heavy presence in the Nigerian music industry. 

Without further ado, here are the best songs of 2026, so far, in no particular order.  Enjoy!

KAPOW – Igwe Aka, Tochi Bedford 

“Swag, swaggo, swaggest!” It’s criminal how smooth Tochi Bedford‘s interpolation of the Naija hip-hop classic, Bahd, Baddo, Baddest, is after so many listens. The production on this song immerses 808s and ogene, slowed down rage rap instrumentation that’s almost too technical to rap over, with yarns that flow as smoothly as both artists did. Their verses are assured, hopping between Igbo and Atlanta verbiage in a pop culture potpourri that includes “Last cards” and “Check-ups.” Best of all, Agege gets a shoutout that would make Small Doctor proud. 

Back Outside – BNXN, Sarz 

In the behind-the-scenes video for Back Outside, the first version of the instrumental we hear has a funky bass line, 110 shakers, and some percussion. Nothing so special. Later on in the video, Sarz adds Highlife elements (mostly keys). And then we see BNXN lean in to whisper into his ear about an idea for the sample (Amadou and Mariam’s Ko neye mounka Allah la from their 1990 Vol. 2 album). Sarz is still unsatisfied. And then, they get a children’s choir to perform the sample, and it’s done. C’est fini. Magic. 

Don’t Go Far – Falana 

Falana can sing! Falana can sing the hell out of a ballad of longing! Even when she’s intoning “La, la, la, la”s, she sounds like a virtuoso in a three-tier theatre, belting sentimental alto verses to an eager audience (Bigfootinyourface mixes her voice to nigh perfection, in this regard). The most impressive aspects of this record are the final seconds where she’s joined in choral harmony, right until the bass and shakers come to a stop; a rousing denouement for a rousing song. 

No Trust Me – EF Moon, Starjay

No Trust Me is what would happen if Obesere, Kanye West, Tame Impala, and the guys from Linkin Park made a record together about defying categorisation, the weight of trust, and living honestly. Exotic electric guitar shredding. Screeching nü metal vocalisations. Free-form pidgin rap about how relationship woes might be the product of early exposure to porn. EF Moon scrounged together a colourfully chaotic collage of  emotions that demands fourth and fifth listens. 

Big Bum Bum – Mavo, Kidd Carder 

Looking past the appalling title choice, Big Bum Bum is one of the year’s best all-round performances. Moody mid-tempo pop production from Shallythechampion. Apala-influenced vocal runs and grounded lyrics from Kidd Carder. Slurred singing from Mavo that somehow strikes a cord. It’s the full package as far as contemporary Afro-pop/Street-hop love songs are concerned. Kidd Carder sings with a sincerity you wish other young artists could emulate. Yes, you can be a tough guy, but can you sound hurt by rejection without coming off as obnoxious? 

Chanel – Blaqbonez, Asake

Walk into any party right now, play those first few seconds of Asake’s verse, and watch the dance floor ascend. “Your girlfriend èmi ní baby ẹ/1, 2, 3, 4, Carter(ka tì ẹ)” How does one even do that? And then Blaqbones, being Blaqbones, oozes cool on cheeky one-liners (“Blaq in the country, be like Shaboozey”) and that infectious hook. Great Ife, arise!

Tornado – Ayra Starr

All five producers on Ayra’s latest single deserve their flowers, quite all right. However, anyone familiar with the magic of two of that quintet, Shizzi and The Elements, wouldn’t be surprised that Tornado has turned out to be such a grand statement piece. You know it’s a great song because online chatter hasn’t been restricted to production alone. Fola’s ad-libs. Fola’s 16-second theft of an outro. Ayra’s vocals and coy similes. This writer need not say more about the “Starr Girl.”

MARY GO ROUND – Omah Lay 

Omah Lay’s brash, evocative writing aside. Those haunting staccato violins and piano synths aside. This is one of the better written songs on Clarity of Mind. MARY GO ROUND weaves the entropy colouring most of the tracks on the album into a coherent whole: a stunning three-part arrangement right up until the chorus and ambient production that compliments acknowledgements of hypocrisy. Prayers up for everyone stuck in a relationship that’s run its course.

Space Fuji – Bloody Civilian (feat. Terry Apala, Boj)

Before Seyi Vibez’s HOUSE FUJI, there was Olamide and Dammy Krane’s House Fuji. And before Bloody Civillian‘s Space Fuji, there was Temmie Ovwasa’s Space Fuji album and the record, Apala Trance, which is also an indigenous fusion. But like with HOUSE FUJI, Space Fuji is an improvement on the concept of neo-fuji. Bloody’s comeback from a 2-year musical hiatus blends the gan-gan, log drums, and Apala rhythms, supported by short, yet enticing verses from Terry Apala and Boj. This genuinely sounds like Fuji aboard the Millennium Falcon and U.S.S Enterprise. 

Forgiveness – Asake 

There’s much to be said about how wealth works within the ambit of Nigerian religiosity. How the very existence of positive wealth is predicated on internal strife and wrongdoing. To many, being wealthy is to be without blemish; while to others, the wealthy require a  magnifying glass. Asake addresses all of this on a rare, candid record, offering insight into the inner workings of his mind. With regard to the production, arrangement, and sound engineering, it’s best that one listens for themselves—assuming, of course, that FOMO hasn’t yet won the war. 

Bonus Picks

Ole – Falz

Ole doesn’t just stand out because there has been a dry spell of sociopolitical records, but because it is honest-to-goodness transcendent hip-hop. In 2 minutes 15 seconds, Falz tells the Nigerian story in 2026. A cypher about protest as resistance, the tribalism surge, corruption̈ and Nigeria’s decaying security infrastructure and the victims of its failings—the Oriire, Oyo State abductees and murdered Brigadier General, in focus.

fine ting (fine $hit) – Fola 

Fola the genteel is dead. In his place, we have Fola the wild. Fola the dangerous, who’s not immune to wooing fine $hit as “Big daddy (with) small body, big engine.” Aiding him on this lascivious run is Magicsticks, whose log drums are firmly in the driver’s seat. This is Amapiano with a Yoruba demon edge, the kind legendary Nigerian producer, Ikon rapped about on Ships. There’s just the slightest disco and jazz influence on this record, fitting for the daredevil lyrics Fola employs. 

Ripper’s Fate – 6uff, Tuff King

What a busy year for the 042, Enugu! Jeriq returned with a follow-up to his debut EP, HOOD BOY DREAMS 2, which generated fanfare, as expected. But it’s the rise of rapper Tuff King that has raised even more intrigue concerning the Coal City, especially with his debut album, BLACK SHEEPIZEN (THE 13th DISCIPLE). He continues that form on 6uff’s Ripper’s Fate, a gem in the dark hip-hop verse popularised by acts like Monaky and Odumodublvck. Ripper’s Fate is mafioso music. The kind of record you’d expect soundtracking the arrival of Alhaji Eniola Salami and Makanaki (King of Boys), Scar (Shanty Town), or Obozz da Bozz (To Kill A Monkey). 

Chance – Ema Onigah

It is appointed onto fans one chance to buy an artist’s early stocks, after which they can only play the catch-up game. Ema Onigah’s stocks are piping hot right now. The music backs the hype. When the breakthrough arrives, do not say that Culture Custodian failed to put you on. 

For those who have invested, the better-charting With You might seem a shoo-in for this list. However, it is Chance, also off his Item VII EP, that deserves this laurel. Chance is a mid-tempo Afro-pop letter to God for protection against those who refuse to see that “sky no [dey] fit overpopulate.” The song relies heavily on Onigah’s signature triple-time patois flow without coming off gimmicky, finding pockets for sentimental lyricism straight out of Gen Z church. 

Mofe – Mavo 

Some will disagree with this pick because of Mavo’s pedestrian songwriting and rhyme schemes. However, ask yourself how easy it is to craft effortless sounding lamba with the same vocabulary as on previous songs. “Steeze,” “Balenciaga,” “Mama,” “Casamigos,” “Kilobizzy.” It’s stuff the Afe Babalola University star has said a hundred times over. And yet, Mavo manages to make them sound fresh over lush P.Priime intermittent piano loops, kicks, and hi-hats. You just cannot stop burti music. 

IGBA ENI – Teledalase 

Teledalase asks question after question on this record. When will her own time arrive? What path will she take to find good fortune? How will she find happiness? Amid life’s unending struggles, who will aid her on our journey? IGBA ENI is an invocation of time as a function of our individual travails, delivered on climactic hybrid production (bells meet gan gan meet acoustic guitars and grand pianos). Another reminder of the US-based singer’s ability to conjure moments in every song.