Opening Prayer: I pray against the spirit of opposing things I know to be true because I want to seem like a purist, Amen 🙏🏾
With the year already halfway through and still no undisputed runaway Album of the Year, it feels like the perfect time to talk about a quiet crisis — or perhaps better said, a fantastic problem — brewing in the Zim Hip Hop (ZHH) ecosystem. It’s not about talent — there’s no shortage there. It’s about definitions, structure, and the lines we’ve drawn around a genre that’s evolving faster than we’re adapting.
Specifically, it’s time we start rethinking what we mean by the underground.
Now, let me be clear: I’m not a ZHH historian. But I’m a very attentive observer — a digital crate-digger with my ears to the streets, the timelines, and the group chats. And from where I’m sitting, we’ve arrived at a pivotal moment. Zim Hip Hop is growing — not just in output, but in reach. And that means our frameworks for how we recognize and reward artistry have to evolve too.
Let’s talk about the awards.
In the year Malcolm Mufunde won Album of the Year with Treasure, the reaction was polarizing. Not because the album lacked quality — in fact, it was a stunning project. But because Malcolm is an underground artist, and that year he was up against artists with significantly bigger followings and mainstream visibility.
The result sparked real tension, with some feeling the win ignored the momentum of more prominent names. The most public reaction came from R. Peels, who famously dismissed Malcolm as a “Twitter rapper” — a jab that captured the growing divide between the genre’s online underground and its more visible, commercially active tier.
Fast forward to the next year, when NOP Makoni took home Album of the Year at both the ZHH Awards and the NAMAs. This time, the backlash came from the opposite end. Fans of albums like Main Oan Pack, Ekasi, and When We Are Not Being Lazy were frustrated. These were projects that some of us consider to be among the finest rap albums in ZHH history.
And yet, they couldn’t gain traction in the face of a mainstream juggernaut like NOP Makoni — who, to be clear, made a fantastic album. But again, we were asking two completely different kinds of projects to compete for the same recognition.
This is the fundamental issue. The genre has split into distinct creative and commercial lanes, but our award structures still treat it like everyone’s in one big room. And that room is starting to feel too crowded — and too confused.
It wasn’t always this way. For most of its history, ZHH only had one or two artists in Zimbabwe’s mainstream at any given time. So when someone like Synik or Jungle Loco won Album of the Year, it made perfect sense. The underground was the scene. There were no competing powerhouses with national reach. The field was mostly level, and the awards reflected that.
But in 2025? That’s just not the case anymore.
Sane has dropped three videos in the last three months — and they’re all heading toward 100,000 views each and he is objectively STILL not a top 10 hip hop act in zim. NOP Makoni is winning national awards, not just ZHH-specific ones.
Saintfloew and Voltz JT changed the game in 2021 by entering — and dominating — the mainstream. Now we’ve got multiple artists in that space, and they’re playing by different rules, with different audiences, metrics, and expectations. And if we don’t make space for that reality, we’re going to keep running into this same problem — year after year.
Worse still, it’s affecting the credibility of the very institutions that are meant to uplift the culture. At the last ZHH Awards, four of the top five artists didn’t show up. That’s not a coincidence. That’s a signal. And it’s part of why those tired old jokes about “all ZHH fans knowing each other” still hit. Because the awards often feel like they’re for an inner circle — even when the music has long outgrown it.
So here’s a thought.
Let’s stop trying to fold every project into one category — and instead build a full ecosystem of awards that reflects what the underground has become: a dynamic, layered, self-sustaining scene with its own sound, stars, and standards. That way, projects like Main Oan Pack can be celebrated on their own terms — not in competition with pop juggernauts, but as part of a powerful lane that deserves its own spotlight. And in doing so, we create space for synergy between the two ecosystems — not rivalry.
And yes, I get it — this opens the door to what some might call a two-tier system. But the truth is: we’re already in a two-tier era. We just haven’t acknowledged it. And until we do, we’re going to keep asking underground artists to punch above their weight in a fight they never signed up for — or worse, ignore their work entirely.
Some of my favorite artists fall into this category. Dough Major, RayKaz, Mile, Asaph — names that might not yet have the national profile of the mainstream stars, but who are making music that defines the soul of Zim Hip Hop. And maybe the real question is: do we start seeing them not as outsiders, but as pillars of a different lane within the same house?
The underground isn’t disappearing. But if we don’t give it space to evolve and shine on its own terms, it will slowly wither. And we’ll be left wondering where all the great rap albums went.
So yeah — I’m almost sure I’m right But hey, maybe I’m open to rebuttals.
