MASOUD Masoud , Tanzania ’s resident music sage, is sitting in this radio studio, trying with all the patience of a kindergarten teacher to explain the intricacies of the Grammy Awards.
Across from him? Two young radio presenters who looked as though they had accidentally wandered into the wrong profession. What was meant to be a golden opportunity to educate the nation about the Grammy Awards turned into an awkward comedy.
Masoud spoke passionately about the importance of global recognition and Tanzanian music’s potential. The presenters (haha!) stared blankly, nodding at all the wrong moments, possibly wondering if “Recording Academy” was a brand of headphones.
By the time the programme mercifully ended perhaps prematurely to save face Masoud seemed more drained than a phone with no charger in sight.
But Masoud’s valiant effort on air represents more than just a funny radio gaffe; it encapsulates the uphill battle Tanzania faces in navigating the global music industry.
With raw talent to spare and a vibrant music scene, Tanzania has everything it takes to win a Grammy except the know-how. One of the gems Masoud likely tried to drop during that ill-fated broadcast was this: the Grammys are not just about talent—they are about membership. Yes, you read that right.
The Recording Academy, the organisation behind the Grammys, relies on its voting members to nominate and select winners. If Tanzania wants its artists to win, it needs representation within this body. No Tanzanian members? No Grammy.
It is like trying to win a soccer match without showing up on the field. Joining the Recording Academy is not as glamorous as performing at sold-out concerts or posing with screaming fans, but it is essential.
Membership gives Tanzanian artists, producers and industry professionals the power to vote, nominate and advocate for their own music.
Without this backstage access, even the most brilliant Tanzanian songs will remain whispers in the global music storm.
Masoud’s exasperation likely peaked when he pointed out this glaring disparity: while Tanzania dreams of Grammys, Nigeria and South Africa are busy collecting them.
These countries have wellestablished music industries, global networks and a knack for international collaborations that keep their artists in the Grammy spotlight.
In contrast, Tanzania’s Bongo Flava a genre bursting with rhythm, soul and Swahili poetry remains largely a local treasure. While Tanzanians sing their hearts out to these beats, the global audience rarely gets the chance to hear them.
And did you know that the Grammy spotlight has shone brightly on African music in recent years, with the introduction of the Best African Music Performance category?
Yet, this spotlight has primarily illuminated Nigeria and South Africa, leaving East Africa—and Tanzania—lingering in the shadows. Masoud’s message was clear: Tanzania needs industry leaders who can step up, push the nation’s music onto global platforms and lobby for its inclusion in the global music conversation.
What he actually meant was that it is not enough to dream big; Tanzania has to act big. Nigeria’s Burna Boy did not just stumble into Grammy glory with his 2021 win for Twice as Tall. His victory was the result of a calculated strategy, spanning years.
From consistent international collaborations to stellar production and a top-tier marketing team, Burna Boy made himself impossible to ignore. And here the takeaway is: quality trumps quantity.
Burna Boy did not release twenty average tracks hoping one would stick; he released the right tracks with the right collaborators at the right time. Tanzanian artists would do well to follow this example.
A single Grammy-worthy song is worth more than a dozen mediocre ones clogging up playlists. Swahili, Tanzania’s musical heartbeat, is both a blessing and a challenge. It sets Bongo Flava apart from other African genres, giving it a unique cultural identity.
But unfortunately, global audiences often lean toward tracks in English, French, or even Spanish. Does this mean Tanzanian artists should ditch Swahili? Absolutely not.
Swahili is a goldmine of lyrical beauty and storytelling. But bilingual tracks, mixing Swahili with English or another global language could bridge the gap. Imagine a Tanzanian artist belting out a Swahili chorus alongside an international pop star’s English hook.
That’s Grammy bait. Let us talk about international collaborations. Yes, Diamond Platnumz has teamed up with Rick Ross and Alicia Keys and Rayvanny worked with Maluma on Mama Tetema.
These efforts were commendable, but they fell short of true Grammy potential. Why? They felt more like oneoff stunts than genuine partnerships.
The key is to create music that feels organic, where both artists shine equally. Think of a Bongo Flava beat infused with Latin rhythms or a taarab track elevated by an R&B star’s vocals.
These are not just features; they are cultural exchanges that captivate both Grammy voters and global audiences. Gone are the days when good music was enough.
In today’s industry, a strong digital presence is non-negotiable. African artists like Burna Boy and Wizkid mastered this game, using platforms like Spotify, YouTube and TikTok to reach millions. Tanzanian artists must embrace this digital revolution.
A viral TikTok challenge tied to a Bongo Flava track could propel it into global consciousness faster than any traditional marketing campaign. Stunning music videos, engaging social media content and streaming-friendly tracks are no longer optional they are essential.
To turn its Grammy dream into reality, Tanzania must adopt a multi-pronged approach. Firstly, Tanzania needs a well-organised music industry that supports artists at every stage, from production to promotion.
This includes building better recording studios, professionalising talent management and fostering collaboration among local artists. Secondly, Tanzanian artists must actively seek out global platforms.
Festivals, awards shows and international collaborations are gateways to global recognition. Also, high-quality production, professional mastering and visually stunning music videos can make the difference between a hit and a miss.
More so, the government and private sector should treat music as a cultural export. Hosting international music festivals in Tanzania and promoting local talent abroad could position the country as a music powerhouse.
Lastly, but not least, the Tanzanian diaspora is a ready-made audience with the potential to amplify local music internationally. By tapping into this resource, Tanzanian artists can create a ripple effect abroad. Mind you, Tanzania is not starting from scratch.
Artists like Rayvanny and Diamond Platnumz have already laid the groundwork, knocking on the Grammy door with notable collaborations and international submissions.
But isolated efforts won’t cut it. A coordinated strategy is essential to keep the momentum going. And let us not forget Tanzania’s unique musical diversity. Genres like taarab, singeli and traditional tribal rhythms offer a treasure trove of untapped potential.
The challenge is to refine these sounds to meet international standards without losing their authenticity. Masoud Masoud may have left TBC that day feeling like he had fought a losing battle, but his message is far from lost.
Tanzania has the talent, the cultural richness and the potential to become a Grammy-winning nation. What it needs now is strategy, consistency and perhaps a little less cluelessness from its media presenters.
Let Masoud’s struggle serve as a wake-up call. The path to Grammy glory may be long and winding, but the rewards are worth every step.
Tanzania’s music deserves a place on the global stage—and with the right moves, that golden gramophone might one day find its home in Dar es Salaam.
The question is not whether Tanzania can win a Grammy; it is when. Let the journey begin—and let Masoud finally get the last laugh.
