Lekan Osifeso Jr, otherwise known as Lojay has never been the type to hide behind the glitter of stardom. In an industry driven by bravado, the Monalisa hitmaker has carved his identity from something far more delicate — vulnerability. Now stepping into a new artistic chapter with his debut album XOXO, the Lagos-born singer is peeling back yet another layer, confronting the kind of love that bruises, teaches, and ultimately reshapes a man. In this interview with ADENIYI ADEWOYIN, the artiste whose journey began in church choirs long before the global stages, reflects on songwriting, evolution, and the moment he realised that loving someone too deeply can come at the cost of losing oneself.
You grew up in a church environment with strong musical roots. How did that early exposure shape your sound and emotional depth as an artist today?
Growing up in church taught me the power of feeling in music before I even understood structure. The harmonies, the choirs, the passion behind worship gave me this instinct to connect emotionally first, technically second. That’s why even when I sing about love or heartbreak, it still feels spiritual in some way.
You started as part of a rap group called Dkoy. Looking back, how did those early rap days influence your approach to songwriting and performance now?
Rap taught me discipline with words. Back then, I used to obsess over rhyme schemes and flows. That period trained me to treat songwriting like storytelling. Even when I’m singing now, there’s rhythm and precision in how I place words and melodies.
The name Lojay comes from your real name, Lekan Osifeso Jr. Beyond being a stage name, what does Lojay represent to you personally?
Lojay is the most honest version of me. It’s not a character; it’s the voice of my emotions. As Lojay, I allow myself to feel everything fully: joy, pain, love, temptation, and confusion. It’s my emotional fingerprint.
Your sound blends Afro-fusion, R&B, and electronic vibes. How do you balance global influences while staying authentically Nigerian?
It’s natural for me because my foundation is Afrobeat. The percussion, the groove, the slang. But I’m also a global listener. I might make a melody inspired by European folk music, but the bounce will still come from Lagos. That balance is what makes my sound universal but still ours.
Your voice carries both vulnerability and confidence. Is that emotional duality something you consciously create, or does it just flow naturally?
It just happens. I think real confidence is being able to be vulnerable. So when I record, I don’t hide how I feel. Some days I sound broken, some days I sound untouchable, and that’s human.
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As an artist who experiments a lot with mood and texture, how do you know when a song feels complete?
When it feels like me. Not perfect, but true. I could have fifty versions of one song, but the moment I play it and it moves me without overthinking, that’s when I know it’s done.
You’re known to have a lot of female fans. How do you handle their attention while keeping your focus on your art and privacy?
I appreciate the love, genuinely. But I’ve learned balance. You can’t feed every type of energy. I keep my private life separate from my artistry because once you lose that boundary; the music starts to feel performative instead of real.
Your debut album XOXO marks a new chapter. What emotions or experiences inspired it, and how does it differ from LV N ATTN and Gangster Romantic?
XOXO is more grown. It’s me reflecting on love and heartbreak with more maturity, not just passion, but patterns, lessons, and scars. LV N ATTN was desire, Gangster Romantic was heartbreak, and XOXO was accepted.
If XOXO had a message or heartbeat, what would you say it’s about: love, evolution, or self-discovery?
All three, but mostly evolution. It’s about loving, losing, healing, and still choosing to love again —just differently.
How do you want people to feel after listening to XOXO from start to finish?
I want them to feel seen. Like, they just went through a journey with me. The highs, the lows, the in-betweens. If someone finishes it and says, “Yeah, I’ve been there,” then I did my job.
You’ve sung about love, heartbreak, and desire with so much honesty. What’s one personal experience that changed the way you write or see love today?
There was a point where I loved someone deeply but lost myself in the process. That taught me love should add to you, not erase you. Since then, I’ve written from a place of balance — loving, but with awareness.
You often come across as calm and introspective. When the fame, pressure, or expectations get too heavy, what keeps you grounded as Lekan, not just Lojay?
Family, faith, and silence. Sometimes I just disappear for a bit, no music, no social media, just time to breathe and reconnect with God and my people. That’s how I remember who I am outside the noise.
