Rhythms Without Borders: The Ayizan Frequency
9/5/25
By SonicRadio
Authenticity is everything. When I started being truer to myself, I began attracting the right audience.
Interview
In the neon pulse of Lagos’ nightlife, Ayizan stands out not just as a DJ but as a translator of emotion. Her sound bends borders moving through continents, cultures, and moods with ease. From underground raves to cinematic soundtracks, Ayizan’s sets are less about hype and more about heart, a sonic passport that connects worlds. In this exclusive conversation, she opens up about authenticity, community, and the beauty of staying true to your sound.
Q: Your mixes feel like they travel across borders. If your sound had a passport, which three stamps would be on it and why?
ANS: We must always pay respect to where we’re from. This question has changed over time, But it has to be Nigeria first. Then South Africa, even though I’ve never been there, because of how much that sound has shaped me. And finally, Brazil, that’s where my rhythm found its groove. I’d even say the UK, but maybe my passport is already British. So inside that passport, you’d find Nigeria, South Africa, and Brazil, three places that built my musical DNA.
Q: Fashion is clearly part of your presence. Do you see your outfits as an extension of your setlist, and how do the two connect on stage?
ANS: How I look should make me feel confident and comfortable enough to move with the music. I find it flattering when people link me with fashion, I just dress how I feel. If I’m performing at a glamorous event, I’ll match the energy. But if it’s a more laid-back night, I’ll go for comfort. Sometimes the DJ is part of the main attraction, other times you’re in the background. Either way, what I wear has to feel like me.
Q: Playlists are often personal diaries in disguise. If someone pressed play on your most personal playlist, what unexpected song would surprise them?
ANS: My personal playlist would shock people, I don’t listen to party music at home. It’s all emotion for me, I listen to jazz from the ’60s, soul from the ’80s, disco from the ’70s, music that shaped the African diaspora. You’ll find Emma V, Jordan Rakei, Toby the Freak, and Babo Moreno there. It’s not sad, just deeply expressive. That’s the kind of sound that feeds me.
Q: Community is at the heart of your vibe. What’s one moment when music helped you connect strangers into a single family?
ANS: SoundCloud made me realize how global connection through sound can be. One of my most heartwarming experiences was starting Mental Jukebox on SoundCloud during lockdown. It began as a way to share my mixes with my brothers. But after I uploaded the first one, it blew up beyond anything I expected. By episode three, I had a guest DJ from Boston — someone I’d never even met. Now, I can travel anywhere and meet DJs who were part of that project. That’s the power of community, people finding each other through sound.
Q: As a DJ and music supervisor, how do you decide when a song belongs in a rave versus in a film or campaign soundtrack?
ANS: It’s less about genre and more about emotion. “The beauty of music supervision,” she says, “is that it goes beyond playlisting. You have to feel the scene. Who are the characters? What are they feeling? What’s unsaid? Then you choose sound that makes that emotion visible. You can have scary R&B or sad rock, it’s not about the genre, it’s about storytelling.”
Q: The Nigerian sound is global now, but you add your own twist. What’s one element of local culture you’re intentional about preserving in your music?
ANS: One thing I love is how Afrobeats artists have kept the sound for us, by us,” she says proudly. “Even though it’s gone global, it still feels homegrown. As a DJ, I don’t need to fight to preserve it, the artists are doing that beautifully. I just enhance it sometimes, adding drums or rhythms that make the African essence stronger. The music speaks for itself.”
Q: When you imagine the future of the Lagos rave scene, what role do you want Ayizan to play; trendsetter, connector, or curator of memory?
ANS: We need storytellers, people to document how this scene began and where it’s going. When I came to Lagos in 2018, the rave culture was still underground,” she reflects. “Because I didn’t play typical Afrobeats, people called me a house DJ. But to me, house is so much more expansive. Now, the scene has evolved beautifully.
“My role?” she says, “Just to stay honest. I’m not here to chase trends. I want to keep my sound true, that’s how culture grows authentically.”
Q: If you could co-create a set or playlist with a non-DJ artist, who would it be and why?
ANS: “His art already sounds like jazz.” I’d love to work with Olivier Bonhomme, a French illustrator,” she says, her tone lighting up. When I saw his artwork this bold, colourful piece featuring a Black woman. I instantly saw myself in it. His art moves like music. It’s rich, full of rhythm. I’d love to create a soundscape for his visuals one day.
Q: What’s one myth about DJs you wish people would finally let go of?
ANS: “That a DJ can always make everyone dance,” she says with a grin. “Yes, that’s the goal — but a good party depends on so many other things: the sound quality, the service, the mood. You can’t just copy and paste a vibe from one event to another. Maybe one day, I’ll teach a class on the psychology of a good party.”
Q: Every DJ has that one track that can reset the energy. What’s your secret weapon song?
ANS: Once the women start singing, everyone comes back to life.”
She laughs. “If I told you, it wouldn’t be a secret! But fine, Lagbaja’s ‘Coco Below.’ Let it play till the female vocal comes in. Trust me, the energy resets. Everyone feels it. Just stick it out till the end.”
Q: Both Sonic Radio and DÚDÚ Live talk about authenticity. What does being authentic mean for you as a DJ navigating Lagos’ rave culture and the global electronic scene?
ANS: Trends aren’t bad, but authenticity keeps your name alive long after the hype fades. Authenticity is one of the most important things to me,” Ayizan says firmly. “When I first started, I said yes to everything, but I’d end up at gigs where the crowd didn’t get me. Once I began staying true to my sound, the right people started finding me.”
Being authentic means speaking your own musical language, Trends will come and go, but your sound — your truth — will always find the people it’s meant to reach. Sometimes I play a track that doesn’t fit the vibe, just because I love it. And there’s always one person who comes up and says, ‘That was amazing.’’
In a world obsessed with trends, Ayizan stands as proof that real artistry lives in truth. From Lagos to London, from SoundCloud to the stage, she continues to create music that connects, not just through rhythm, but through soul.
“I play for the ones who get it,” she says. “Because I was once on the dance floor too.”
