Spontaneous: Sarkodie recorded the effortless Lavida Loca in a hotel room while on tour in the United States three years ago – and it’s still infectious. Photo: Lavida Loca video
The first time I listened to Lavida Loca, I couldn’t help but groove to it. Sarkodie’s voice glides over M.O.G Beatz’s production with signature slickness, while Ghanaian rapper Lasmid’s hook worms its way into your brain with the kind of catchy ease only a summer anthem can manage. It’s effortless and infectious, the kind of track you want to blast with the car windows down, soaking up every moment.
Turns out, that’s exactly what Sarkodie did.
“I was in Washington, DC, during my last US tour, driving my sports car with the top down, just blazing the music,” he tells me during a video call from his home in Ghana. “It felt right. Like you’re outside having fun.”
The record had been sitting on ice for a while, waiting for the perfect moment. “I trust my instincts. I’m always right when I feel like I have to do something. And this just felt like the time.”
He was right. With tens of millions of streams, more than 80 awards and a career that’s seen him collaborate with everyone from T-Pain and Kranium to Idris Elba and Oxlade, Sarkodie remains one of Africa’s most decorated and respected rap icons. He’s sold out venues around the world, including London’s O2 Kentish Town Forum. His creative reach now stretches beyond music, with roles like a one-time stint as creative director for Ghana Party in the Park in London — a festival spotlighting Ghanaian talent in the diaspora.
So when he drops a track like Lavida Loca, the world listens.
Naturally, I had to wish him a happy belated birthday. I had read he’d turned 40 on 10 July.
He laughs. “Yeah, that’s the information out there. I’ve been lying so much that I lost count of my own age. But I’m definitely not 40 yet. I’m getting very close though.”
He spent the day quietly, just the way he likes it. “It was intimate. Just myself, my wife and my kids. We had breakfast together. That’s the kind of celebration I love.”
It’s clear that beyond the accolades and the acclaim, Sarkodie is at his happiest at home where he can be grounded, private and present.
When the conversation turns to music, he lights up. Sarkodie’s process is more instinct than strategy. He doesn’t hunt for songs; he catches vibes. “I record a lot. When I’m in the zone, I can do 30 to 40 songs in two weeks. Then I keep them. No pressure, no rush. Music needs freedom.”
That spirit of spontaneity explains why Lavida Loca, recorded in a hotel room during a US tour three years ago, still feels so fresh. The track came with Lasmid’s hook already in place. “It was just very simple and catchy. You feel something when you hear it. I don’t like music that’s too complicated.”
As for collaborations, he doesn’t throw verses around lightly.
“Everything is intentional,” he says. “I only link up with people who suit the song. There’s a saying in Ghana that Sarkodie knows how to pick collaborators because we barely miss.”
Still, there are artists he returns to again and again: Efya, Mugeez and Obrafour.
“We make some good music,” he says.
And although he’s proud of the Ghanaian sound, he’s just as invested in its place in the broader African movement. “I would say proudly that Ghana is the soul of what we now call Afrobeats.”
He traces the lineage from highlife — Ghana’s indigenous genre, steeped in palm wine guitar and melodic groove — through its modern evolution. “When you trace it back, it leads to Ghana. Highlife is Ghana. Even now, when you listen to artists like Wizkid and Davido, you can hear it.”
He’s quick to give credit to Nigeria for its role in taking the sound international but insists on setting the record straight. “Afrobeats is Highlife in a modern form. And Ghanaians played a huge part in shaping it.”
Sarkodie is also passionate about using music as a tool for unity, education and self-determination. He’s witnessed firsthand the power African artists have to inspire across borders, and he wants more of that.
“We’ve been sold stories about ourselves from outside,” he says. “Everyone wants to be on the Grammys or BET, and that’s fine. But that shouldn’t define our greatness. We go through so much on this continent. But our music lets us dance away the sorrow. It brings us together.”
Still, he believes artists can do more. “We need to speak on our realities. Music shapes minds. If we don’t speak, who will? I’ve always wanted to take our power back. We need to stop letting people come and take advantage of us.”
It’s that same mindset that led him to creative direct Ghana Party in the Park.
“I love behind-the-scenes work. I’ve always been that guy who reads the contracts before the lawyers,” he says of the one edition of the long-running UK festival, when he took the reins.
“Sometimes it’s not even about money. It’s about how you treat the artist, the vibe you create. I wanted to give these young artists a great experience; from the pickup, to the hotel, to the show, to studio time after. It was beautiful.”
He’s especially invested in emerging talent. “The future is the best era,” he says. “They’re going to shape what we’ve built. I like being involved with that.”
Even more impressive is Sarkodie’s achieved all of this success independently; he has never been signed to a major record label.
“I’m signed to myself,” he says with a quiet certainty. “I’ve never been under a label before. It’s crazy.”
It’s not a boast, just a fact, delivered with the same humility that runs through his career. But the road here hasn’t been smooth.
“It’s hard. Very, very tough,” he admits. “But I started enjoying independence earlier. Of course I wanted the deals, that’s what every artist wants, but I think maybe God had a different purpose for me.”
There were moments when the ink was nearly dry, when signing on the dotted line felt inevitable. And then something would shift. “I’d feel like I don’t have to. And I’d move past it. Then I’d figure out how to go through the obstacles. And realise: okay, it’s hard, but you can actually do it.”
That resilience is tied, in part, to a deeply rooted desire for ownership; not just of his music, but of his mistakes too. “I’m someone who works based on how I’m feeling. I can be productive when I’m responsible for my downfall. But things break me when I feel like I couldn’t do this because of someone else.”
That kind of self-awareness has shaped every business decision he’s made. He’s never had a private investor. Every tour, album and promo run is paid for out of his pocket. “It pays off with time. But it’s very hard.”
He doesn’t judge artists who choose a different route. In fact, he’s quick to defend them. “Some artists are true geniuses. They don’t want to read contracts. And people think it’s bad, but it’s not. Some artists create well when they don’t have chaos in their mind.”
For Sarkodie, though, the chaos is part of the equation, part of what makes him thrive.
“I know I’ll panic if I’m doing a promo run and I don’t know how much was paid for it,” he says with a laugh. “I’ll start checking the bank account.”
That mix of artist and entrepreneur, of rapper and chief executive, has become central to his identity. It’s why he founded his own label, sarkCess Music. And it’s why, even with all the obstacles, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
When I ask if there’s anyone he still dreams of working with, he pauses. “Not really,” he says. “These days, I hear a song and I know exactly who needs to be on it. Sometimes, if I don’t get that person, the song just doesn’t come out. That’s how particular I am.”
So what’s next?
Sarkodie has two more singles lined up for release, but his focus this year is on concerts. His flagship show, Rapperholic, a staple of Ghana’s music calendar every December, is expanding. “This year we’re taking it to Kumasi, my hometown. It’s called The Homecoming, happening on 27 September. Then we’re back in Accra on 25 December.”
And after that? “I’ll keep making great music and sharing it with the fans.”