In Ghana’s music scene today, success is measured in screenshots. A million streams here, a viral TikTok clip there, a chart position posted with fire emojis and shouting captions.
Numbers have become the loudest voice in the room, and anyone without them is quietly assumed to be losing.
As the Telecel Ghana Music Awards (TGMA) nominations loom, one uncomfortable question keeps surfacing: has TGMA, in chasing digital noise, lost sight of its purpose?
TGMA: The awards that built the industry
Let’s give credit where it’s due. For 26 years, TGMA has been a cornerstone of Ghanaian music, positioning artistes for local recognition and global impact. Yes, it has survived its fair share of controversies, from fiery debates to dramatic bans, yet its role in shaping careers and setting industry standards remains undeniable.
Recently, TGMA began leaning on Digital Service Provider data to guide nominations and final decisions. On paper, it sounds smart: numbers promise objectivity, precision, and clarity. The problem is simple. Numbers can lie.
Streams are easily gamed through farmed plays, coordinated loops, and artificial boosts. Even more troubling, much of this data reflects foreign consumption rather than Ghanaian listening habits. According to Statista, only about 15 percent, roughly 3.6 million Ghanaians, of those with internet access are signed up to digital music platforms. That represents barely 10 percent of Ghana’s 35.2 million people. If TGMA truly wants to honour local talent, it must pay attention to what Ghanaians actually listen to, not the illusion created by speculative global streams.
When TikTok trends faster than careers
TikTok has revolutionized Ghanaian music. A fifteen-second clip can turn an obscure track into a national anthem overnight. Dance challenges, comedy skits, and lip-sync videos now carry the promotional weight once reserved for radio.
But here’s the trap: virality is not loyalty. A song trending for two weeks may disappear before the artist can secure better gigs. Many viral hits fail the test of longevity. Can the artist perform the track three months later and still fill a crowd? Often, the answer is no.
Today, we have TikTok-famous artists who are venue-invisible. Their songs live loudly on phones but quietly in real life. Virality creates moments. Fan bases build careers. Confusing the two is an industry mistake costing more than it seems.
The streaming numbers illusion
Streaming platforms promised clarity and fairness. But numbers can be massaged. Streams can be farmed. Playlists can be bought. And suddenly, digital metrics appear more sacred than they are.
This obsession has influenced music creation. Short intros, repetitive hooks, and instant drops dominate because the algorithm rewards quick engagement, not depth. Meanwhile, artists investing in storytelling, performance, and sonic identity often look underwhelming “on paper,” even though their real-world impact is far stronger.
Artistes bigger than their data
Every Ghanaian music fan can name artistes whose influence far exceeds their streaming stats. Songs that dominate taxis, campuses, bars, and live shows often underperform online. These are artistes whose music is lived, not looped.
Street credibility still matters. Lyrics quoted in everyday conversation, songs played at weddings and funerals, names that fill venues; no playlist can capture that footprint. Yet awards increasingly favor data over depth. Artists who move people are sidelined for those who move metrics. That is where TGMA risks celebrating visibility over value.
Followers vs. Fans
Numbers can be deceiving. A follower scrolls and likes; a fan buys tickets, streams intentionally, defends the artiste online, and grows with them. Loyalty, though harder to measure today, remains the most reliable ingredient for longevity.
Artists with smaller, committed fan bases often outlast those with inflated visibility and shallow engagement. TGMA’s current reliance on numbers rarely rewards that truth.
The TGMA argument
Award organisers often justify their process by citing their reliance on seasoned DJs, supposedly to capture the pulse of the streets and reflect current trends. This, however, raises a fundamental question: are DJs truly best positioned to make such judgments? Do they genuinely read the culture, or do they merely amplify the voices and songs of those who pay for their play (payola), their promotion, or sit closest to them? Too often, many come to the table not as neutral observers but with clear agendas, intent on pushing one artiste over another.
The same issue extends to the board. While several members are undoubtedly experts in their respective fields, many remain disconnected from wider industry trends, evolving sounds, and the full scope of the music business. As a result, decisions are not always instinctive or well-informed. Instead, they are guided, explained, and at times carefully fed through data and curated playlists before conclusions are reached.
The numbers may look impressive, but they only matter when they are properly understood and applied. DJs can be valuable when they are open-minded and ethically grounded. Likewise, the board can be fair if it commits to continuous learning, applies independent judgment, and stops waiting to be led by the hand before making decisions.
The numbers trap
As nominations are open, charts, streams, and trends dominate conversation. Data should inform, not replace judgment. Awards exist to recognize excellence, impact, and contribution, not analytics.
When numbers become the primary filter, awards risk becoming data awards. Emerging artists get the wrong message: chase streams at all costs. Forget identity. Forget craft. Forget growth. That is not how legends are made.
Rethinking success
Success in Ghanaian music must be multidimensional. Numbers matter, but so do:
• Live performance strength
• Cultural relevance
• Consistency
• Influence
• Longevity
Awards schemes must ask:
• Can this artiste sell tickets?
• Can they perform for an hour?
• Do they have a catalogue people return to?
• Are they shaping sound or chasing trends?
• Are they building something sustainable?
Until these questions weigh as much as streams and charts, we will celebrate flashes instead of foundations.
Finding the plot again
This is not an argument against streaming platforms or TikTok. Both are here to stay. The problem is balance. Data should support the story, not define it. Numbers should confirm impact, not dictate it.
TGMA has shaped Ghanaian music for over 26 years. Its legacy is monumental. But it must evolve to honor cultural relevance and local influence, not just digital footprints.
Follow the clicks, or follow the culture. When trends fade, playlists reset, and screenshots expire, only real impact remains. And that is the success that truly lasts.
Source: www.kumasimail.com
