NAIROBI, Kenya — There are interviews you plan for, and then there are the ones that arrive the way good stories often do; late, slightly chaotic, and exactly when they’re meant to.
My interview with Joshua Baraka was supposed to happen at Blankets & Wine in September last year, under Nairobi’s open sky, somewhere between a soft breeze and a louder-than-necessary crowd.
But life, as it tends to do, rearranged the script.
And so, instead of catching him there, we found each other in a studio, courtesy of Spotify, like two characters who missed the first act but still made it just in time for the plot twist.
He showed up on day two of a Spotify Fresh Finds session last weekend, in one of those quietly important rooms where tomorrow’s stars were still introducing themselves to the microphone.
Young artists drifted between studios, trading melodies like secrets and building songs from half-formed ideas and full-hearted ambition. Joshua wasn’t there to record.
He was there to guide, hovering gently over the process like a big brother who’s seen a few more rooms like these, offering direction without suffocating the magic.
Joshua is, to put it simply, easy. Easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, so easy, in fact, that what begins as a structured interview quietly melts into the kind of conversation you catch yourself wishing had no end.
We tucked ourselves into one of the studios to talk, but people kept drifting in and out, cutting through like it was a public footpath rather than a working session. It got to a point where Spotify staff stationed two security guards at each door to restore some order.
And just like that, our little corner transformed into something resembling a proper interview space, where thoughts could land fully and sentences could breathe.
The thing about artists who travel the world is that the world travels back with them; sometimes in their sound, sometimes in their stories, and occasionally around the waistline.
Joshua admits, with the kind of honesty that deserves both applause and perhaps a gentle gym membership, that he has gotten “a bit more chubby” because every new country came with new food and he, being a reasonable human being, chose joy every time.
It is the kind of detail that tells you everything you need to know about him. This is a man who experiences life fully, who doesn’t just pass through places but tastes them, quite literally.
“I’ve traveled so much in the last three years, and I’ve got to experience different cultures,” he says. “I’ve been exposed to different kinds of music, different kinds of places, so how I view the world has changed, how I make my music has changed, and how I approach situations has also changed quite a lot.”
Travel, he says, fundamentally changed the way he creates.
“I’ve learned that music is a global language,” Joshua explains. “So now I’m making music for the world. I’m making music with the intention of it getting into other areas.”
With bigger stages has come bigger pressure. Increasingly, Joshua finds himself as the first Ugandan or East African artist performing in certain international spaces.
“So, a lot is riding on me, at least in my head,” he says. “I try to deliver. Even the performances are set up in such a way that I’m there to impress and spread a message.”
Yet despite the growing spotlight, he still prefers intimate venues over massive festival stages.
“Fewer people means more interaction, more engagement, less pressure,” he says. “I can stop the song, start it again, make a joke in between.”
Naturally, the conversation found its way back to the much-discussed September 2025 edition of Blankets & Wine, where Joshua was initially scheduled to perform before Tems but eventually closed the show instead.
For months, speculation swirled online about backstage drama and scheduling disputes.
According to Joshua, the reality was far less dramatic.
“It was just a timing issue,” he says. “The performances delayed, and the time I was going on stage was the time allocated for Tems.”
He says Tems’ team requested that she perform first because she had commitments after the show, and he agreed without hesitation.
“For me East Africa is home,” he says. “There was pressure on me, but I’m really glad about how it all came together.”
Away from the festival conversations, 2026 is already shaping into another major year for the artist. He says he is focused on finishing his album, performing more shows, and exploring collaborations across the region.
In Kenya, he specifically names Karun, Watendawili, and Toxic Lyrikali as artists he hopes to work with.
But perhaps the most revealing moment comes near the end of the conversation, when Joshua reflects on how he wants people to see him.
“I feel like I’m walking on my own path,” he says. “I don’t want to really be placed on the standards of the artists that have been here before.”
There is no arrogance in the statement. No rebellion for the sake of rebellion. Just the quiet confidence of someone committed to becoming fully himself, even if the world takes a little longer to understand it.
