The 100-Foot Stage: Wizkid’s ‘G.O.A.T’ Experience Marred by One Creative Misstep

The Tafawa Balewa Square (TBS) has long been the hallowed ground of Nigerian entertainment, a coliseum where legends are either minted or humbled. Over the weekend, this historic venue served as the epicentre for FutureFest, a high-concept cultural festival designed to showcase the "next frontier" of African music. 

On the night of December 28, 2025, Wizkid did not merely inhabit this space; the Grammy winner attempted to redefine the physical limits of African performance. The headlines have quite rightly been dominated by the sheer audacity of the ‘G.O.A.T: The Greatest of All Time' Experience.

The Grammy winner delivered a masterful, career-spanning setlist that blended nostalgic classics with elite smashes, turning Tafawa Balewa Square into a pulsating sea of energy. The show served as the FutureFest’s monumental headline performance, powered by Pepsi as part of their #BabaForTheStreetz campaign.

Wizkid opened his sold-out show with the timeless "Jaiye Jaiye", setting an electric tone before diving into fan favourites like "In My Bed," "On Top Your Matter," "Pull Over," "Thank You," "No Lele," "The Matter," "Final (Baba Nla)," "Beat of Life," "Soco," "Karamo," "Ololufe," "Show You the Money," and "Soweto Baby." The crowd erupted for throwbacks such as "Ojuelegba" , “Slow Down” and "Don’t Dull", which closed the show on a triumphant high. 

The undisputed highlight was "Money Constant", one of the biggest songs across Africa right now, which Wizkid performed during a high-energy segment that sent the entire venue into an absolute frenzy.

Adding to the magic, Wizkid brought out several guest superstars for unforgettable collaborations: Tiwa Savage joined him for electrifying renditions of "Ma Lo" and "Dis Love," Young Jonn came through for their joint banger "Cash Flow," and CDQ hyped the crowd with "Nowo E Soke". 

Dancer Poco Lee also made a high-energy appearance, bringing street vibes to the stage, while other mentions included OG Abbah and Ceezer Milli, keeping the surprises coming throughout the night.

However, as a fan first and a journalist second, it is difficult to ignore the one element that marred an otherwise perfect night.

With a stage standing 100 feet tall, Wizkid’s "GOAT Experience" was the structural equivalent of a ten-storey building. It was an engineering flex masquerading as performance art, and for African live production. Starboy attempted set a new benchmark for production on the continent with almost violent clarity.

But once the smoke at TBS cleared, the night left behind an uneasier residue. Amid all that precision, ambition, and capital, one creative choice rang discordant.

One must ask: why make an AI-generated puppet the primary face of this architectural marvel, rather than letting the artist’s own iconic image carry the night?

Furthermore, beyond the staggering height, the stage design itself felt remarkably underwhelming for an artiste of such calibre. It was a cold, sparse monument of scaffolding that lacked the creative flair worthy of such a historic night.

There is no disputing the technical ambition of the TBS show. As a feat of logistics, Sunday night made a statement. To erect and operate a structure of this scale in the heart of Lagos requires a level of precision that signals Nigeria’s readiness for global touring circuits. However, the execution was evidently flawed. The production team seemed to take the "Future Fest" theme too literally. In an attempt to lean into the festival’s avant-garde vision of a "tech-driven global takeover," the centrepiece of this massive LED display was a digital AI-generated avatar intended to represent Wizkid.

While the massive LED displays did periodically switch to live footage of the Starboy himself, these glimpses of reality were often cut short by the return of an uncanny, digital facsimile.

The Starboy brand has always been built on aura. A studied nonchalance. Impeccable fashion instincts. A face that has become shorthand for a generation’s cultural confidence. By substituting that living charisma with a digital proxy, the production traded intimacy for artifice.

At a venue as vast as TBS, the overhead screens are not supplementary, they are essential. For a homecoming billed as the 'Greatest of All Time', the choice to interrupt live feeds with an AI avatar felt like a curious retreat from the man himself. Fans were met with something artificial and oddly distant when all they really wanted to see was the man, uninterrupted. Wanting to look futuristic is understandable. But music, at its heart, still depends on human presence. For fans seated far from the stage, the big screens are the only real connection. And when they looked up, they saw more flashes of a digital ghost.

From my vantage point in the high bleachers of TBS, the one hundred-foot stage was a breathtaking sight, yet it was here that the creative disconnect felt upsetting. For those of us seated in the tiered stands hundreds of yards away, the overhead LED display was our only lifeline to the artist’s presence. It was in these bleachers that I spoke with fans who felt this "digital distance" most acutely.

Precious, a Lagos-based fashion designer seated next to me, expressed a sense of displacement as she watched the screen: "Omo… I just said omo when I saw it. Is that supposed to be Wizkid? (laughs)"

The disappointment was even more palpable for Oyiza, a long-time fan who had travelled from Abeokuta specifically for the homecoming. Looking up at the avatar from the stands, she shared a sentiment of profound heartbreak: "It's cool sha but I didn't come to TBS to see a 'concept' of Wizkid; I came to see my fave. The only thing I want to be seeing on that screen is Wizkid. Why didn’t they just use his face? (sighs) It would have been perfect."

Even those who admired the festival’s ambition couldn't ignore the irony. Victor, a forex trader also seated in the bleacher section, noted: "I think it's chill sha. My own is... just show us Wizkid!! All that other stuff....nobody really send dia papa."

There is a profound sadness in hundreds of millions worth of technology ultimately served as a barrier to the man we came to celebrate. The use of AI in creative spaces is the defining debate of 2025 but its application at TBS felt remarkably out of step with the Experience promised.

This creative choice seems to stem directly from the recent endorsements of the medium by Wizkid as the hitmaker has publicly championed AI as a vital tool to 'enhance originality', and 'redefine the game' for African creators. However, while Wizkid views AI as a frontier for innovation, its application at TBS proved that technology should be a bridge rather than a wall.

There is a concept often called the "uncanny valley". It happens when something attempts to look human and is almost convincing but ends up feeling strangely wrong which makes the familiar feel uncomfortable. The movements of the avatar lacked the rhythmic fluidity central to the presence of the Starboy. What appeared at intermissons was a pale imitation of the real thing. It was a missed opportunity to show the world that the future of Afrobeats is 100 per cent its people and not just its processors.

By leaning so heavily into the digital, the production overlooked the very originality Wizkid has long stood for filling a one hundred-foot screen with a placeholder that lacked the soul of the man standing beneath it.

Despite the visual critique, the night remains a landmark moment for the city's entertainment history.  On social media, many attendees noted the impressive scale of the “Giran” energy and suggested that the sheer height of the stage gave Wizkid the appearance of a deity descending upon the island.

The industry will celebrate the sheer scale of the 2025 TBS production, but the night also exposed the friction between high technology and raw performance. As Afrobeats continues its global ascent, this "G.O.A.T" experience reminds us that you can build the tallest stage in Africa, but you cannot program the charisma of a generational icon.