Written and Interviewed by Nana Tenadu
Nigerian singer-songwriter Celeste opens up about Our Time in the Sun, becoming her own producer,
SXSW London, and building a career on her own terms.
At exactly 3:00 p.m., my phone buzzed. “Hi Nana, we’re waiting on the call.” The message came from Ifoghale better known as Ifo; Celeste’s A&R and one of the people helping steer this chapter of her career. I stared at my screen for a second.
Waiting? Our interview was scheduled for 4:00 p.m. or at least, that’s what I had written in my calendar. For a brief moment I wondered if I had somehow gotten the date wrong. Then another thought crossed my mind. “Wait… are we in different time zones?”
By the time we finally connected on Google Meet, everyone was laughing about it. It turned out that what began as a scheduling mix-up became the perfect icebreaker. The atmosphere never felt like a formal interview. It felt more like dropping into someone else’s creative space just as they were beginning to unpack years of work, setbacks and small victories that eventually became Our Time in the Sun.
Before we spoke about SXSW London, before we spoke about headline shows or collaborations, I wanted to understand something much simpler. How does someone arrive at this point?
Finding a Sound That Already Existed
Long before Our Time in the Sun, before international showcases and growing audiences, Celeste worked mostly with other producers. That changed while making ‘Our Time in the Sun’.
For the first time, she produced most of the record herself. Before becoming the primary producer behind the project, Celeste spent years trying to find collaborators who understood where she wanted her music to go. Sometimes the right producers weren’t available. Other times, their rates were far beyond what an independent artist could afford. Instead of forcing the process, she adapted.
“I realised I had to become more involved,” she says. Today, she describes her music as a blend of Afro-indie, indie folk and Afro-soul genres held together by storytelling. “I’ve always cared about stories,” The phrase comes up more than once during our conversation.
So I ask what “indie” actually means to her. “You can think of it as alternative music,” she explains. “Independent. Different from the sounds you hear every day.” It’s a simple answer but it also explains almost everything about her music.
There was a period when music simply wasn’t enough to sustain the work. Rather than force the process, she took a 9-to-5 job at a media company. It wasn’t a break from music it was a way to keep it alive. Between office hours and recording sessions, she stayed consistent, performing at events like Oktoberfest and slowly building her career while waiting for the right moment.
“They were actually supportive, they included my music in newsletters and helped people discover what I was doing.”
Even after long workdays, she continued writing, recording whenever she could and releasing music little by little. There were still performances like Oktoberfest among them. I can relate,” I tell her.
As writers, we know that feeling too well. Sometimes life demands so much of your attention that it gets difficult being creative. You spend your best hours building someone else’s dream before returning home to work on your own.
She agreed. Then she says something that reframes everything we’ve been talking about. “I’ve always had music.”
She remembers hearing ‘Wata Bam Bam’ when she was barely two years old. She can’t recall every detail, only flashes of people dancing around the house. “I started singing really young, the technical side came later. Learning, instruments, training my voice, understanding production itself? It has always been me
Validation Sounds Different From Inspiration
People often ask artists who inspired them, as though every creative journey begins by trying to become someone else. Celeste’s answer felt different.
When I mentioned Nigerian singer-songwriter Asa and asked whether she had been an influence on her music, she paused just long enough to make an important distinction.
“She was,” she said. “But more than that, listening to Asa validated what I was already interested in.”
Growing up, Celeste’s ears were always open to different worlds. There was highlife at home. There were the familiar rhythms of Nigerian music. But there were also sounds from beyond West Africa; The Cranberries, Sade Adu, and other artists whose music wasn’t confined by geography or genre. She absorbed all of it without feeling the need to choose one over the other.
Then she found Asa.
“It validated my process, it validated how I was seeing music.” Not copied. Not influenced. Validated.
The Story Behind Our Time in the Sun
Every project has a title. When I asked about Our Time in the Sun, Celeste laughed before answering.
“You need to get a Coke and popcorn for this one.”
Everyone on the call laughed. By then, the conversation had found its rhythm. The formalities had disappeared, replaced by the easy back-and-forth of people talking about something they genuinely care about. She explained that the title didn’t come first. The music did. Once the songs were finished, she and Ifo sat together and listened to the project from beginning to end.
“Our Time in the Sun is about the experiences I’ve had over the last few years, making friends and meeting people who genuinely wanted me to be okay.”
The more she spoke, the clearer it became that it is really about belonging, that life becomes lighter when the right people enter it. There was another layer, too. For years, she had made music without receiving the recognition she felt the work deserved. Like many independent artists, she had watched opportunities arrive slowly while continuing to create anyway. Naming the project Our Time in the Sun wasn’t just poetic. It was intentional.
“I wanted it to feel like a manifestation not wishful thinking”.
When Life Becomes the Producer
I tell Celeste that the first song that caught my attention on the project was “This Side of Love.” The second was “Traveller.”
“There was something freeing about Traveller,” I say. She appreciates me then she lets me into the story behind both songs. “This Side of Love was very personal. I produced that one myself.” She laughs before adding, “I was going through it.” No further explanation needed. We both laugh because, somehow those words communicate everything.
“I get inspired by experiences.” She tells me she can hear the wind moving through trees and begin imagining melodies. As a child, people joked that her ears were unusually big.
“They used to call me an elephant,” she laughs. Not because of how they looked. Because she seemed able to hear everything. It’s a funny story. But it also explains her music better and somehow, those sounds become stories.
A Song That Crossed Oceans
Traveller feels like movement. The song began during a cross-cultural documentary exploring the connections between West Africa and the Caribbean. Through that project, Celeste met Ghanaian singer-songwriter Annabel Rose, someone she’d first come across through a mutual creative circle online. Around the same time, something else had captured her attention. Bossa nova.
“Ifo was curating a lot of bossa nova music for me,” she says and one of those playlists included Annabel’s voice.
“I wanted Traveller to feel language-based. I wanted someone with a different background, someone who would bring something I couldn’t.” So she sent Annabel the instrumental. No long meetings.
“It was beautiful,” she says softly. “She’s such a sweet person.” Listening to her describe the collaboration, it becomes clear that Traveller isn’t simply about travelling across places. It’s about what happens when artists allow themselves into unfamiliar creative spaces. Before moving on, I asked one final question about the project.
“What do you hope people feel when they listen to Our Time in the Sun?” Unlike some of the earlier questions, she doesn’t need time to think. “That things are possible.” The answer comes immediately. “I want people to feel like they can conquer the world.”
When you think back to everything she had already shared; the years away from music, learning production, balancing a media job with recording sessions, wondering whether recognition would ever come?
By the Time She Got to London, the Hard Part Was Already Over
When people talk about international performances, they often talk about the stage. Rarely do they talk about what happens before any of that. For Celeste, the biggest challenge wasn’t really performing at SXSW London. It was making sure the performance existed in the first place.
“It was my first time in the UK,” she says with a laugh. Leaving the trenches of Nigeria.” The excitement was obvious, but so were the nerves. She wasn’t just travelling to another country; she was introducing herself to an audience that had never experienced her music in a live setting. And she wanted to do it properly. She didn’t want to walk onto the stage alone with her guitar. She wanted the performance to breathe. She wanted people to experience the songs the way she heard them in her head. There was just one problem, finding a musician in London wasn’t easy or affordable.
“The prices were really high,” she tells me.
For a while, it looked like she might have to abandon the idea altogether. Then she met Boma Shona. Almost unexpectedly, everything changed. Boma agreed to perform with her. Celeste sent over the songs. They had one rehearsal. Just one. She laughs as she remembers it.
“We kept asking ourselves, what if we mess this up?'” Anyone who’s ever prepared for something important knows that feeling.
When Music Speaks Before Language Does
There are moments in an artist’s career that quietly change the way they see themselves.
For Celeste, London became one of those moments. The audience didn’t just listen. They leaned in. People she’d never met before sang along. They danced. They stayed after the performance. Some even came to her listening party, curious to hear more. The disbelief still lingers in her voice as she tells the story.
“I had people singing in Yoruba,” she says, smiling and they were doing our traditional dance steps.”
One thing became clear over the course of our conversation. Celeste doesn’t measure success the way the internet often does. Not through numbers or trends but connection. The kind that turns strangers into collaborators. The kind that carries a song from Lagos to London. The kind that makes someone stop after a show just to say,
“I felt that.” That’s why she still talks about SXSW with so much excitement.
“You’re in for a Ride.”
As our conversation begins winding down, I ask the question every artist expects. What’s next? She laughs immediately.
“Oh, you’re in for a ride.” The answer comes with the kind of excitement that only belongs to someone who’s already thinking ahead. There’s another EP in the works. No title yet.
She’s also preparing another headline show – Sunny Days: a live experience built around Our Time in the Sun. And then there are the collaborations. She lights up when talking about them. Especially the possibility of working with more women. It’s not about checking names off a list and more about building community. For Celeste, none of it feels separate from the music. It is the music.
