A grand piano stands in the corner of Piano Smithfield, a cosy tavern tucked away in London’s Barbican, waiting for its moment.
That moment comes on Friday 27th June, when Nigerian-born recording artist Maka transforms the 100-seat venue into a thumping cabaret-style club. Maka is no debutante, having carved a niche in Nigeria’s vibrant music scene, since relocating to the UK in 2022, she’s been quietly winning over audiences in smaller venues. On this particular evening, she sets out to reintroduce herself with her first headlining show in the UK, and she does so with electrifying flair.
I walk into the dimly-lit venue at 7.15pm, and after scanning for the room’s best vantage point, I make small talk with Itiafa Akerejola (a British-Nigerian pageant queen) and David Kwaw Mensah (a British photojournalist capturing the night’s energy).
At exactly 8.00pm, the chatter of the multicultural crowd hushes as Maka takes the stage, her presence commanding from the outset. Her wit and warmth are infectious, setting the tone for a night that swings between introspection and revelry. The event gets off to a flyer with the piano-assisted “Screw You“, with Ukrainian composer Bohdan Reshetilov on the keys. Rendered in a manner akin to Ric Hassani’s breakup anthem “Thunder Fire You“, this ballad prioritises self-love. Maka belts out affirmations in high registers.
After that bold start, Maka steps back to let Bohdan take centre stage. His two original compositions, “Finding Peace,” a hymnal piece that transforms Smithfield from pub to chapel, and “Prelude Number 11,” a melancholic nod to 1950s jazz, cast a spell over the room.
Ghanaian poet Kate takes to the stage next, delivering a poem titled “Happiness.” Nigerian poet Oloyede Michael Taiwo follows, his baritone evoking griots as he swings between hope and melancholy with “In the Wreckage of the Night” and “Ghost of Rainmakers.”
Maka reclaims the stage to introduce Lebanese guitar virtuoso Ele, whose quartet of songs keeps the energy high. His introspective “Quicksands” is bolstered by Carl Herring’s piano and rhythmic audience claps, while the lo-fi “Girlfriend for a Night” unfolds like a melody from a Mexican film soundtrack. “Say You’re Sorry” invites more clapping from the audience, evoking the raw energy of a Ren gig, though Ele falters slightly on the tongue-in-cheek “Under the Influence.” He redeems himself with a soulful cover of Bill Withers’ “Ain’t No Sunshine,” joined by Maka, whose vocals weave seamlessly with his strings. They follow it with a playful take on Sting’s “Englishman in New York,” reimagined as “Nigerian in London.” The crowd, now thoroughly lubricated by alcohol, sings and stomps along, their tipsy tongues gamely keeping up. The former Police frontman would approve.
Seventy-three minutes in, Maka summons her full band Rew Elkington on guitar, Bohdan on piano, Project Timmy on drums, and Max Jolin on bass for the high-octane “Good Time.” The song’s pounding bass and percussion underpin Maka’s paean to hedonism, with the crowd chanting along to “two is perfect/three is a crowd.” With guests visibly buzzing, she beckons on her longtime friend, Nigerian rapper Phlow, and together they roll back the years as they perform “No One“, one of Maka’s earlier efforts originally recorded in Lagos nearly a decade ago.
Maka’s vocal prowess shines on the keyboard-heavy “Jidenu’m (Hold Me),” a tender exploration of vulnerability laced with honeyed ad-libs that thrill the room. The drums kick into overdrive for “Trouble,” where lyrics about a former lover’s toxic patterns become strangely uplifting when paired with her deft chords. Things take an intense turn with the stripped-down “Daddy’s Letter,” only to pivot to hilarity with the tough-love mantra “You’re Not Special.”
Maka’s knack for blending wit and profanity is unmatched, and her crowd work peaks as she gets everyone swaying to “Let It Be.” The cynical “Block Button” gives way to the optimistic “Flood,” complete with a clever Lagbaja interpolation, before she closes with the lusty, high-tempo “F.U.N.” The crowd responds by dancing, their bodies mirroring the uncontainable energy Maka has unleashed.
She may have spent the past few months teaching English at a college in West London (for a migrant creative, earning a living may sometimes involve alternating microphones with blackboard dusters) but Maka hasn’t lost her stagecraft by any means. Her performance is a masterclass in balancing intimacy and spectacle, her music resonating with a diverse audience. As conversations about her next gig swirl, one thing is clear: Maka is ready to conquer the UK’s music scene with her singular blend of soul, swagger, and storytelling.
You can find and stream Maka’s music here.