As his 30th birthday creeps closer (cue dramatic drumroll), Nigerian alt-artist and part-time superhero entertainment lawyer Eri Ife is gearing up to drop what might be his most personal project yet. Over the course of a wildly entertaining hour-long chat—featuring detours through rap name regrets, long-distance trauma, and accidental self-naming—we found an artist who’s equal parts introspective, unbothered, and very, very funny.
Let’s start with the name. Eri Ife wasn’t always Eri Ife. Once upon a time (read: his rapper era), he went by redacted “We don’t speak of it,” he laughs. The glow-up began when he pivoted from rap to guitar-driven storytelling and adopted the name Eri Ife. The twist? His mum had actually named him that as a baby. “We both named me Eri Ife,” he shrugs. Cosmic alignment, anyone?
The name “Eri Ife” itself carries a quiet magic. Originally picked as a stage name to better reflect his themes and artistic voice, he would only later discover that it was the very name his mother gave him at birth. “We both named me Eri Ife,” he says, laughing at the coincidence that doesn’t feel coincidental at all. It’s a fitting metaphor for his music—self-defined, but deeply rooted.

That same kind of full-circle serendipity runs through his upcoming album, which he’s been quietly obsessing over for four months. Now it’s almost out in the wild—and he’s just about ready to let it go. “Once I release it, it stops being mine,” he says. “They belong to everyone else now.”
It’s not drama. It’s just true. The album was mostly written during what he jokingly calls his time in “Greatest London” (shoutout to West Drayton, land of expired Oyster cards), while working long shifts, missing church, and being separated from his wife. It was lonely. But it gave him songs.
One of those songs—“Miles and Miles”—captures the ache and beauty of long-distance love. He wrote it on a whim at work, after a colleague said, “Wait, you haven’t written about your wife yet?” ADHD kicked in, and boom. Song.
The whole album leans into live instrumentation, textured arrangements, and honest lyrics. Think Jon Bellion with a Nigerian heartbeat. Think early Lagbaja and Asa meets Sunday service vibes. Think an artist who really, really cares. “Jon Bellion is my ideal model for interacting with fans,” he says.

“I want to tour small venues, raise kids, fear God, and do press-ups. That’s the life.” And he’s not joking. Eri Ife isn’t aiming for arenas. “Give me 2K people that ride for me,” he says. “I’m not trying to sell out Madison Square Garden. Leave that for Madison.”
And while he’s currently juggling a full-time job in entertainment law (yes, really), gigging, songwriting, and helping clients in the UK and Nigeria, he’s not burning out—just burning bright. “Work-life balance? It’s a joke,” he grins. “But it funds the music. And the music is worth it.”
This album—dropping July 6th, aka his 30th birthday—is the product of chaos, clarity, solitude, and surrender. He’s proud of it. Excited. Nervous. Hopeful.
“All my noise about wanting to blow,” he says, “I’ve given it to God.”
Whether or not the album goes viral, one thing’s clear: Eri Ife’s already somewhere special. And if you’re lucky enough to tune in, you might be too.

Written by Eniolu Lawale