In Abidjan’s Nouveau Quartier de Yopougon, the most densely populated district in Ivory Coast’s economic heartland, young people beat boredom with music and dance. Here, the clatter of cargo loaders mixes with the sounds of coupé-décalé blasted from maquis (Ivory Coast’s famous open-air bars and clubs). It’s the soundtrack of a neighborhood that is trying, with difficulty, to modernize. Where they’re ahead of the curve; teenagers with their noses in their smartphones, checking out the latest dance challenges on social networks. Last June, it was the challenge to “La la la” by Zadi The King that captured everyone’s attention, and laid out the format for biama’s success.
The metaphysics of a hit
One minute of frenetic choreography has racked up over 250,000 views on TikTok in just three weeks. The seventeen-year-old artist’s goal? To test the popularity of a potential hit before deciding to release it. This is the third song stamped “biama”, a sub-genre of coupé-décalé, that Zadi the King has released using this strategy, which consists of publishing 30 to 60 seconds of a song, accompanied by the choreography of a “dance challenge”. For “Pythagore 2 golaba”, released in autumn 2023, the strategy was successful, racking up over 200,000 views on TikTok the week of its release. His second hit, “Bossu”, was released a month later, surpassing one million views on TikTok the month of the release and now has nearly four times more on YouTube.
“I was surprised by the success of ‘Bossu’. Before this hit, I was nobody. From one day to the next, thousands of people were dancing to my music,” confides the 17 year old artist, who became the ”king” of the Nouveau Quartier de Yopougon, even before he came of age. As viral as it is on social media, biama is also the new musical sensation of the streets and dancefloors of Abidjan.
For some, the word “biama” refers to a Nouchi expression for criticism or gossip. For others, it’s an attitude, conquering and being resilient in the face of adversity. Online, fans associate the term with being light-hearted, distracted, or giving back. If the origins of the word biama are unclear, the ingredients of its success aren’t.
The dance of the immature
Started as early as 2017 by singer Safarel Obiang and his track “Manger-chier”, biama became a viral sensation in 2021 after Kalo Maman, a teenager from Yopougon, posted one of his dance videos. In his challenge “calculatrice 2 fois 2”, he outlined the style of the movement, and its precise response to the beat. Then, the duo Team2 Poy amplified the phenomenon with their songs “Dora dance” and “Maman matchôtchô”. In just a few years, the genre has taken the Ivorian web by storm, and conquered the ears of very young listeners.
What makes biama special is that “it’s faster music, with a bpm that can easily flirt with 160, unlike classic coupé-décalé, which rarely exceeds 140”, explains producer Emmanuel, composer of Zadi the King’s three hits, from his small, brightly-colored studio in Yopougon. “It’s the dance of the immature,” sums up Kalo Maman in his celebratory video that launched the genre. For singers and dancers, this vibe is above all an extension of coupé-décalé, an off-center way of executing steps, with ultra-singular gimmicks and grimaces. The pelvis still undulates in the original style, but arm and foot movements are jerky and frenetic. It’s a new way of vibrating to the beat, which allows young fans of the genre to free themselves from the shadow of coupé-décalé’s pioneers, while paying them tribute.
Resurrecting coupé-décalé
Since the deaths of Douk Saga, who passed away in 2006, and his successor DJ Arafat, who died in 2019, Ivory Coast’s coupé-décalé scene has been looking for an heir. Together they have put Ivory Coast on the map for the African music scene. Arafat and Douk Saga embodied their music, and waved the banner of coupé-décalé proudly; a sonic explosion born of the Ivorian diaspora in France in the early 2000s. Since then, the genre has been exported all over the world. And now, the turbulent biama has emerged in the wake of Abidjan’s club culture.
The offspring borrows many of its parent’s norms. First and foremost, the use of “atalaku”; vocal tributes to well known personalities, local figures or simple buddies. Adopted from Congolese rumba, these shout-outs, largely reappropriated by Ivorian coupé-décalé singers, are heard throughout biama tracks.
Made to dance
Another common element is the presence of the illustrious roukaskas, the acrobatic dance invented by Ordinateur, the dancer of the late DJ Arafat. But this coupé-décalé 2.0 is distinguished from its ancestor by its improbable speed of execution. “Biama is music inspired by dancers,” adds producer Emmanuel. “We compose as much for them as for the audience. We try to anticipate how the dancers might move to the music, at what moments, for example, they might accelerate.“
For Zadi the King, “biama has resurrected coupé-décalé. Before its emergence, coupé-décalé was at a standstill. Biama brought a different color, a different hue, a second wind.” As for Dydy Yeman, another heavyweight of the movement: “biama has taken a unique turn. It’s an ultra-positive, sometimes childlike state of mind, which consists in having fun, without thinking about your worries!“
Don’t trust the system
“Coupé-décalé was born in the wake of the socio-political movements of 2002, supplanting zouglou, another musical style born of the student strikes of the 90s,” explains Adolphe Yacé, musicologist and director of the music school at Ivory Coast’s National Institute of Arts and Cultural Actions (INSAAC). For this Ivorian music expert, biama is also part of a singular social context. “Remember that, at the time, people interpreted coupé-décalé as a rebellious genre, signalling moral decline. In reality, it was an appeal, a raw cry from a whole generation of young people struggling to find their bearings after the many crises the country had endured.“
Whereas coupé-décalé was invented in maquis before spreading to clubs across the continent, biama emerged on social networks via dance challenges. Biama’s off-kilter dance steps might be interpreted as a defiance to social determinism. The choreography of the hit “Bossu” contains this particularly transgressive social dimension. “Bossu means freedom in Nouchi,” explains King Zadi. “To dance to Bossu, you put your shoulders up, then come down, as if to signify that you have the ability to take care of your loved ones. You’re the one who invites your friends into the club, you’re the one who pays for everyone who wants it. You are free and you have the means to be.”
“Biama is a state of mind. We express our joie de vivre through our dance steps,” says singer and dancer Roma Chihaya, who has choreographed numerous biama shows. His sidekick Azazou Satellite, self-proclaimed “President of all biamaseurs in Ivory Coast”, agrees; “It’s coupé-décalé 2.0. It’s the expression of the new generation.” The two biamasseurs confide that they are increasingly called upon to create choreography and artistic direction for video clips. They are keen to promote the flow of Yopougon by involving young dancers from their neighborhood in these videos. Azazou Satellite’s track “La Machette” is one of the hottest biama dance challenges in Abidjan. But now, Yopougon is too small a territory for the genre: Dydy Yeman’s banger “La Pression” has surpassed 13 million views on YouTube and he has just returned from a mini-tour of France: two dates in Paris and one in Lyon, where the artist from the Maroc district of Yopougon played to a full house.
The Ivorian genre in orbit
Biama has spread far beyond the borders of Yopougon, and has carved out a place for itself on the playlists of parties in the trendy neighborhoods of Cocody, Marcory and Zone 4. The track “Biama de Cocody” by rapper Blackiller, featuring one of the members of Team2Poy, is a perfect example. Artists from the maïmouna genre, a slower, trap-inspired derivative of ivory rap, play on top of biama productions, as does Team Paiya member Ste Milano.
The hit “Le Coup du Marteau” (130 million views on YouTube) and the track “Fimbu” (48 million views on YouTube), which accompanied the Ivorian national soccer team during the African Cup of Nations (CAN) 2024, perfectly incorporates the sound of biama, launching it into international orbit. “Fimbu”, an absolute banger, opens “Ça c’est biama, méchant méchant”. The unstoppable “Coup du Marteau” continues its ascent on streaming platforms with more than 40 million streams just on Spotify, and was certified a gold disc last April in France by the Syndicat national de l’édition phonographique (SNEP). This track is by far the biggest Ivorian international hit in years.
Ivorian “biamaseurs” were quick to seize the opportunity of the CAN to promote the genre. To mark the occasion, Team2Poy brought together several artists under the banner “Collectif Biama”, including Azazou Satellite, to release “Life” at the start of the competition. The result: over 2 million views on Youtube. Biama is also making inroads on TV and radio shows, both local and national. The Ivorian press is now curious about this new movement, and doesn’t fail to invite its headliners for interviews to try and get a grip on the phenomenon. Dydy Yeman appeared last April on the NCI channel, Zadi the king went on the national RTI 1 channel “C’midi” two months later, and Team2Poy and singer-choreographer Azazou Satellite joined for a special biama program on the same channel in June… All have come to proclaim it loud and clear: they are the new standard-bearers of a boiling Ivorian youth.
A foothold in the streets
The movement benefits from countless shares on social media, slots in nightclub playlists, and recent media coverage by the mainstream press. It also has dedicated performances – notably the “Chez Potter” evenings in Koumassi (a commune in southern Abidjan) on Friday nights – as well as the Place Jean Paul II in Yopougon, every evening. But if biama originated in Abidjan’s working-class neighborhoods, it is first and foremost rooted in the street via dance battles. Initially informal, these competitions are now becoming increasingly structured. The aim? To bring out the most stylish dancers, who compete for the title of “Best Biama Dancer” and, more recently, for money, with prizes ranging from ten to one hundred thousand CFA francs (around 150 euros).
Demonstrating the full range of styles of biama dancers, while creating moments of collective communion with Yopougon residents who have embraced this trend: this is the idea behind the “biama décalé” collective, the brainchild of content creator Jamax and Mike Dizzy, the arranger for Dydy Yeman and Team2Poy. “We decided to put the spotlight on biama creatives with a platform dedicated to this genre,” explains Jamax. Since March 2024, the collective has been organizing weekend battles on vacant lots or in Yopougon schoolyardswith a prize of 100,000 CFA for the winner. Performances by artists Safarel Obiang, Ramses Tikaya, Roma Chiyaya, Dydy Yeman and Azazou Satellite punctuated the festivities.
Biama as a DIY movement
Despite the numerous successes, biama’s place in the Ivorian music ecosystem remains fragile, starting with its recognition by the major record companies. For the time being, very few “biamaseurs” are featured in major label catalogs. While Team2Poy – the first group of biama artists – released its tracks on a major label, this is not the case for all artists. As for Dydy Yeman, he works independently. “I fight alone,” he explains. “The idea is to show labels that I’m not here for fun. If a record company is interested, they have to be 200% ready, because on my own, I’ve already reached 13 million views with my track ‘La Pression’”.
Zadi the King finances his music thanks to the charitable help of Ventura, a young manager of a maquis in Yopougon. Ventura – Linda Yao by name – became Zadi’s producer with no previous experience in the music business, deciding to invest in his career because she was impressed by his talent. “I’d never done this before, but I wanted to give it a try because I believe in him,” sums up the thirty-year-old manager. With the income from her local bar, she finances Zadi’s studio recordings. For the music videos, she waits to see the results from the demos and dance challenges on TikTok before launching into the production of the entire clip.
Without labels, structuring is slow: Dydy Yeman and Zadi the King continuously drop EPs and singles, while waiting for the release of a first album. At Universal Music Africa, the continent’s main major label (along with its rival Sony Music), as at C2C, Ivory Coast’s leading independent label, biama artists are completely absent from the catalog.
“We are the future of coupé-décalé”
“We’re aware of the dimensions of the movement, we can see it rising, but for the moment we don’t have any artists categorized as 100% biama signed with us,” comments Franck-Alcide Kacou, Managing Director of Universal Music Africa. “It’s a phenomenon that’s growing faster than other Ivorian musical styles that have appeared in recent years, thanks to the dancing and virality of certain tracks.” But at the same time, the director points to a lack of incarnation: “DJ Arafat is irreplaceable. He took coupé-décalé to a new level in the pantheon of Ivorian music. Today, biama doesn’t yet have a major figure, with incredible talent, to follow in his footsteps. Is this new generation hiding an heir? I don’t know yet.”
For his part, Cheikh Louis Tall, CEO of the C2C label, is following the movement from afar, waiting to see if it will take precedence over other current trends: “We’ll have to wait a while before looking into it. A lot of new genres are being born, like Ivory Afrobeat with Dirty Akim, or new pop with Paulo Chakal… So we’re waiting to see which of these genres takes hold over the long term.“
Dydy Yeman sees his recent mini-tour in France as a sign that biama is gaining momentum. “It’s not a movement that’s going to die now,” proclaims the artist, “with more solidarity, I think we’ll go far.” For the biamaseurs Roma Chichaya and Azazou Satellite, “biama is both the past and the future of coupé-décalé”. As for Zadi The King’s manager, Koffi Traoré, he’s banking on the (very) young generation of biama listeners, who he sees as the guardians of this music: “biama arrived at the same time as the rise of TikTok. As long as it remains dynamic on this platform, it will stay trendy. Today, children as young as two or three are fans of biama. When they grow up, they’ll be the new biama generation.“
“The fact that artists are basing most of their strategy on social networks can prove limiting in the long term,” comments musicologist Adolphe Yacé. For the music professor, “biama players need to seize the wave of popularity they are currently enjoying to plan the next steps in the movement. For example, by creating labels and festivals dedicated to the genre, which will be able to ensure artists a career longer than the lifespan of a simple buzz.” Otherwise, “when they hit rock bottom, they risk being forgotten,” warns Adolphe Yacé.
Bad reputations
Another major challenge for biamasseurs is the bad reputation associated with their music. “The dance of the immature” is also the dance of the “bad boys”. In the media and on social networks, some protest is rising alongside the success of the genre: biama is said to promote drug use. In particular Gaddafi, a powerful opioid often mixed with alcohol to increase its sedative effect. The incendiary song “Khadafi” by the group 100 Papo crystallizes much of this criticism.
It’s not easy to establish yourself in the hearts of cultural institutions when your music is accused of pushing young people towards drugs. Jamax of the Biama Décalé Collective understands the concern, but tempers it. “At the start of the movement, some people were irresponsible in the way they presented themselves. But that’s no longer the case. Because biama is serious business. Everyone is involved to help the movement grow.” Dydy Yeman, for his part, dismisses the accusation laconically: “We’re civilized, our music isn’t synonymous with delinquency.”
This bad press is compounded by fierce competition between new musical sub-genres such as maïmouna, whose lively ambassadors also intend to take the spotlight: “It’s hard to say whether biama has a better chance of establishing itself and being exported than maïmouna. These are two sub-genres that are alive and will continue to live, but they will probably give rise to other sub-genres,” professes Franck-Alcide Kacou of Universal Music Africa. C2C label boss Louis Tall shares the same uncertainties about the reshaping of the urban musical landscape of Ivory Coast in the coming months: “Biama and maïmouna are both derivatives of coupé-décalé, mixed with urban sounds. It’s impossible to say which style will succeed in imposing itself over the long term on Ivorian territory.”
With an aesthetic that is now well established, as well as some fine sonic chops, biama has kick-started a rather bloated Ivorian music scene, which until now has been stuck between Ivorian rap and the Christian rap of evangelist KS Bloom. Still at the mercy of the fickle musical tastes of his very young audience, the “young villain” from Yopougon is still looking for a future. For Zadi the King: “Nobody can predict how long this movement will last. While it lasts, we’re in it! And you know, if biama has to disappear, we’ll have made the most of it. And we’ll always be proud of having come up with another formula for coupé-décalé!”