For nearly three decades, Sola Akingbola has stood behind some of the world’s biggest stages, surrounded by drums, shakers and bells, shaping the rhythmic backbone of Jamiroquai’s global sound.
Yet despite the reach of his work, Akingbola remains one of those musicians whose influence often exceeds public recognition. Much of his career has unfolded in the background: building grooves that have travelled across continents and composing the warm, percussive theme for the CBS sitcom Bob Hearts Abishola.
That understated presence seems to suit him. His work has rarely been about spectacle as much as it has been about source, rhythm and meaning.
Born in Oregun, Lagos, and raised largely in London, Akingbola occupies a familiar but deeply personal diasporic space, one shaped by migration, cultural distance and the search for belonging. But where displacement often creates rupture, Akingbola turned it into inquiry. Over the years, that inquiry has shaped not only his music but also his understanding of Yoruba philosophy, history and identity.
His 2024 album How Should I, recorded with his band The Eegun Rhapsodies, reflects decades of that exploration. His recent single “Olukunmi,” inspired by Ogun, the Yoruba deity associated with iron and transformation, extends those ideas even further.
“I wanted to speak to that power of transformation that human beings carry, the ability to adapt in whatever environment we find ourselves in,” he says. “That is what Ogun represents.”
The track itself evolved over time. It first appeared as a percussion-driven piece built around Bata and Dundun drums before later expanding into a fuller, jazz-inflected arrangement layered with bass guitar and additional instrumentation.
In this exclusive conversation with The Nollywood Reporter (TNR), Akingbola reflects on identity, rhythm, Yoruba philosophy and the creative journey that has shaped his music across continents.
A Self-Built Bridge to Yoruba Roots
Akingbola’s early years in London were shaped by a lingering sense of impermanence. His father had settled in West London as part of the wave of Nigerians who moved to Britain during the 1960s and 70s, and the family initially lived among relatives within the growing Nigerian community.
But the idea of “home” remained unresolved. His parents had always spoken of returning to Nigeria after completing their medical qualifications, a return that never fully happened.
“My dad used to remind me that almost every week I would ask him, ‘When are we going home?’” Akingbola recalls. “I never really settled in the UK when I went to school.”
School offered little comfort. Raised mostly among Caribbean classmates during a period marked by prejudice toward Africans, he remembers being one of only a few Nigerians in his school.
“We had to really hold our own,” he says. “That also added to my sense of distance in the UK.”
At home, Yoruba existed more as fragments than fluency. His parents rarely spoke the language regularly, except, he jokes, during moments of discipline.
“My knowledge of Yoruba insults is actually very strong,” he says with a laugh, “because that was the only time my mum would switch to Yoruba when she was angry with us.”
The cultural connection he eventually built came largely through his own curiosity. Ironically, it began with Greek mythology.
“It was through Greek mythology that I returned to Yoruba culture when I was doing my A Levels,” he explains. That path eventually led him toward the works of Wole Soyinka and later to Fela Anikulapo-Kuti, two figures he describes as major creative influences.
“The kind of Nigerian I wanted to become creatively,” he says.
Alongside those influences were the sounds that filled his childhood home. His parents regularly played Haruna Ishola, King Sunny Ade and Yusuf Olatunji, whose music left a lasting impression on him.
“I loved the guitars. I loved Yusuf Olatunji. I loved the Sakara drum,” he recalls. “The poetry of Yoruba music is profound.”
That influence would later reappear directly in his own work. Songs such as “Everyday” from How Should I draw from the sounds and emotional textures of the music he grew up hearing at home.
For Akingbola, pursuing Yoruba identity in 1980s Britain often felt unfashionable, but the need for rootedness outweighed any concern about trend or perception.
“I needed that rooting,” he says. “I needed to understand my parents’ history.”
That search eventually deepened into philosophy, particularly the Yoruba concept of Iwa Pele, often translated as good character. For Akingbola, the idea remains central to how he understands both creativity and human conduct.
“Good character is the light, the power that we bring through everything that we do,” he says. “Anything that moves us away from that good character does not belong to us.”
The Jamiroquai Years and a Global Musical Identity
Before Jamiroquai, Akingbola’s early touring years began with jazz guitarist Ronnie Jordan, who introduced him to life on the road and gave him opportunities to bring Yoruba rhythmic structures into contemporary music spaces.
Joining Jamiroquai, however, transformed his career. Across nearly three decades with the band, Akingbola developed the rhythmic language that would become central to his identity as a percussionist.
He is careful about how he defines that identity.
“I am not a Latin percussionist,” he says, although he acknowledges the overlap between Afro-Cuban, Brazilian and Yoruba rhythmic traditions. What interests him most is identifying the Yoruba rhythmic structures embedded within those traditions and bringing them forward in conversation with the rest of the music.
Touring globally with Jamiroquai sharpened both his instincts and his understanding of recording. He describes the band as “one of the best live bands on the planet” and credits frontman Jay Kay with significantly shaping his journey as a musician.
Beyond Jamiroquai, Akingbola has collaborated with artistes including David Bowie, Stevie Wonder, Damon Albarn, Tony Allen and Idris Elba. He has also composed for productions staged by the Royal Shakespeare Company and the National Theatre.
That same rhythmic sensibility later reached television audiences through Bob Hearts Abishola, for which he composed “Ifanla,” the show’s theme song. The series ran for five seasons between 2019 and 2024, bringing Yoruba-inspired musical textures into millions of homes across America.
His work on the series earned him BMI Awards for Best Film and TV Score in both 2023 and 2024.
Encountering Ogun and the Origins of “Olukunmi”
The roots of “Olukunmi” trace back to a moment in New York in 1997, shortly after Jamiroquai appeared on Saturday Night Live during the height of the band’s global success.
At an afterparty, a Cuban man approached Akingbola and greeted him with the phrase “Ogun mi Baba.” The moment caught him off guard.
“I remember thinking this man is saying Ogun is his father,” he recalls.
The encounter eventually led him back to conversations with his own father about Ogun and Yoruba cosmology.
“My father explained to me that Ogun is the Yoruba deity of iron,” he says. Over time, Akingbola began interpreting Ogun less as a distant spiritual figure and more as a symbol of transformation itself.
“Ogun is not just a deity,” he says. “It represents the process of transformation.”
That idea became central to “Olukunmi,” which he describes as a meditation on survival, adaptation and continuity across the Yoruba diaspora.
“I am not trying to elevate people as if they need it,” he explains. “I am simply acknowledging their spirit of transformation, resistance, beauty and survival.”
The conversations around Ogun also introduced him more deeply to Lucumi and Santeria traditions in Cuba and Latin America, spiritual systems created by Yoruba-descended people navigating colonial oppression while preserving fragments of shared identity and memory.
Authenticity Without Compromise
Despite working across funk, jazz, Yoruba philosophy and Afro-Cuban traditions, Akingbola rejects the idea that his work must be simplified for broader audiences.
“I don't think of simplification,” he says. “I am always thinking of clarity.”
For him, creation is often a process of discovery rather than complete certainty.
“In the moment of creation, I am not fully clear about the direction,” he admits. “But gradually, it starts to reveal itself.”
That same openness shapes how he views younger African artistes drawing from indigenous traditions in contemporary music. Rather than seeing it as nostalgia, he views it as continuity.
“Each generation has to interpret the past in order to move forward,” he says.
Among contemporary artistes, he speaks enthusiastically about Asake, whom he describes as unapologetically Yoruba while still moving confidently within international spaces. He also praises Tems and Odumodublvck for their distinct artistic identities and experimentation.
Still, Akingbola resists controlling how audiences interpret his work.
“All I can do is express what is in me,” he says. “If that resonates positively or negatively with people, then the work is done.”
