THE ARCHITECT OF HER OWN SOUND -How Tems Turned a Quiet Voice from Lagos Into a Global Enterprise

T here is a version of this story that begins with the Grammy. Or the Oscar nomination. Or the call from Beyoncé, or the one from Rihanna, or the night Drake’s Certified Lover Boy dropped and half the internet wanted to know: who is that voice on the outro?

That version isn’t wrong. It’s just incomplete.

The more interesting story — the one that actually explains how a self-taught singer from Lagos became one of the most in-demand voices in global music — has very little to do with luck. It is a story about ownership, patience, and the deliberate construction of a career designed to outlast any single hit. It is, in the truest sense, a business story.

Tems is a Grammy-winning singer and songwriter, the founder of her own creative company, a part-owner of a Major League Soccer franchise, and one of the most quietly influential figures to emerge from Africa’s music industry in a generation. To understand how she got here is to understand what it actually takes to build something that lasts.

Temilade Openiyi was born on June 11, 1995, in Lagos, Nigeria. Her parents separated while she was still young, and she was raised primarily by her mother — without the benefit of industry connections, a famous surname, or any guarantee that music would ever become more than a private refuge.

She was educated at Dowen College in Lagos, and later studied Economics at Monash South Africa — a detail that reads, in hindsight, like foreshadowing. Long before the arenas and the red carpets, hers was an ordinary trajectory: a young woman writing songs in her room, using melody to say what conversation couldn’t.

What distinguishes Tems from many of her contemporaries is a decision she made early and never abandoned: she would not chase a sound that already existed.

While much of the industry gravitated toward radio-ready formulas, she moved in the opposite direction — toward something slower, more soulful, and unmistakably her own. She taught herself music production, not as a side skill but as a means of authorship, ensuring that the architecture of her sound would always run through her own hands rather than someone else’s.

Her 2018 debut, Mr Rebel , didn’t storm the charts, but it announced a distinct point of view. A year later, Try Me changed the equation entirely, introducing Nigeria to a voice that refused to be filed under any existing category.

The conventional path to global recognition involves years of active pursuit — showcases, features, relentless self-promotion. Tems took the opposite route. She simply kept making honest music, and the world adjusted its course toward her.

In 2020, Wizkid invited her to feature on “Essence” — a record that would go on to become a defining moment for African music on the global stage, later joined by Justin Bieber on its remix and introducing her to an entirely new audience. What followed was not a fluke but a pattern: Drake on Certified Lover Boy , Future on Wait for U , Beyoncé on “Move,” Rihanna on Lift Me Up for Black Panther: Wakanda Forever .

These were not random opportunities extended to a rising star. They were the accumulated dividends of years spent building a sound distinctive enough that the industry’s biggest names sought her out specifically.

In 2024, Tems made headlines for a decision entirely outside the music industry: she became a Club Partner in San Diego FC , joining the Major League Soccer club’s ownership group through The Leading Vibe, making her the first African woman to hold an ownership stake in an MLS franchise.

The move signaled something beyond diversification. As she has explained it, sport carries a unique power to unite communities and create opportunity for young people. It was, in effect, a statement that her ambitions extend well past her next album, toward the kind of legacy that compounds across generations rather than chart cycles.

The myth of the solo artist rarely survives contact with reality. Behind Tems’ rise is a carefully assembled infrastructure: her longtime manager, Muyiwa Awoniyi (“Donawon”), has guided key career and business decisions; BSB Management handles representation; and her music reaches the world through Since ’93 and RCA Records. Around them sit lawyers, booking agents, publicists, stylists, and producers — the unglamorous machinery that keeps a career running long after the spotlight fades.

Talent gets you through the first door. Infrastructure keeps the rest of them open.

The Team You Don’t See

Tems’ influence extends well past streaming numbers. She has appeared in campaigns for Tommy Hilfiger, Burberry, Reebok, and Coca-Cola, brand partnerships that were not simply the byproduct of fame but a recognition of something harder to manufacture: consistency, authenticity, and a clearly defined identity. That is precisely what global brands are willing to pay for.

The accolades, at this point, form a substantial list: multiple Grammy Awards, BET Awards, NAACP Image Awards, and Soul Train Music Awards, alongside an Academy Award nomination for songwriting and repeated recognition from Billboard for her influence on the global music landscape.

But the awards are a byproduct, not a blueprint. They are what accumulates when the work itself is disciplined, deliberate, and sustained over time.

In an industry that often rewards volume, Tems has built her public presence on the opposite instinct. She rarely engages in manufactured controversy. She speaks with evident deliberation. Her confidence registers as quiet rather than performative — and that restraint has, in its own way, become part of her brand identity.

It is a reminder that authenticity, delivered without spectacle, can be just as commercially and culturally powerful as noise.

Much of what circulates online about Tems’ personal holdings, relationships, and private life remains unconfirmed by her directly. She has chosen to keep significant parts of her life outside public view — a decision worth respecting rather than speculating around. Often, the people who build the most durable careers are the ones who guard their peace with the same discipline they apply to their business.

Examined closely, Tems’ career reveals a consistent set of principles: she resisted the pressure to conform. She built a sound that belonged to her alone. She prioritized ownership over convenience. She surrounded herself with people who understood both the art and the business of music. She expanded deliberately into ventures beyond the recording booth. And above all, she was patient — trusting a slow accumulation of craft over the appeal of a shortcut.

There was no overnight success in this story. There was only years of work, arriving eventually at a moment the world was finally ready to meet.