How Blak Dave went from Debugging code to Engineering Lagos’ Afrohouse Movement

David Olubaji first encountered structure through sound. He was born into a background steeped in Christian music, so he learned to play the drums, keyboard, and guitar. He did not learn them as pastimes, but as whole spiritual disciplines. While it is safe to say music was his earliest framework, practicality led him to technology. As a secondary school student, he spent a lot of time roaming the web at a cybercafe right next to his house. He went on to spend the next ten years as a software engineer, an impressive career span that started out as him predictably taking over affairs at the cyber cafe, then saw him become a remarkable student at NIIT, snowballing into him landing an internship at PwC, and then leading teams at startups. 

By 2022, fatigue set in, and Blak Dave, as he was now called,  wanted some change; he recalls his thrill-seeking urges getting the better of him and impulsively booking a skydiving trip to Dubai. Back in Lagos, Blak Dave channelled this energy into curating more shindigs: the first one being an impromptu all-white amapiano yacht party with friends, then an Owambe-themed event where attendance doubled unexpectedly. These were experiments in gathering people, not professional pursuits. The Owambe party kicked things off, as he had initially planned to have just a little over a hundred people, but he ended up having over twice that amount of guests. Also, even though they had booked a smaller venue for this party, they ended up using Glitz Event Centre and even had a live band compose and perform a song for the owambe.

In July 2024, Blak Dave released an Afrohouse EP. The Third Step is a four-track EP that fused the precision of his tech background with the spontaneity of his party-throwing days. The title nodded to both the three-step subgenre and his own journey: engineer, DJ, now producer. Igoke became an anthem. By 2025, DJs like Aniko spun it during her Boiler Room Lagos set, its log-drum rhythms syncing with the crowd’s pulse. The track’s success surprised no one who knew Dave’s history. Like the yacht parties he’d thrown years earlier, The Third Step was another experiment, this time, testing how far Afrohouse could travel when built on both technical rigor and raw feeling. The EP wasn’t a pivot, but a continuation. The same mind that debugged software now fine-tuned basslines; the same audacity that threw a full-sized owambe for the fun of it now pushed him to produce music.

From the birth of Blak Dave as an art form, his tech background became inseparable from his art. “Tech rewired my brain,” he notes. “I now do a lot of things with intention. I try to ensure nothing is random.” Social media posts underwent scrutiny; even Instagram stories followed strategic timing. He admits that the only unexpected thing was his first DJ booking. When he bought DJ equipment, it was initially for personal practice. He recorded sets in his room and uploaded them to YouTube. Melvin, the owner of Ram and Beer Lagos,  stumbled on an Afrohouse set Blak Dave uploaded and invited him to DJ at the joint, making it his first official booking.

Monochroma emerged organically from these dual worlds as Blak Dave teamed up with fellow tech bro and mischief mate, Proton, to bring it to life. When Monochroma was launched, its mission was clear: create a space where Afrohouse music, rooted in rhythm, spirituality, and African electronic fusion, could unite people. The events prioritised sensory immersion, characterised by candlelit corners, floral installations, and all-around intentional set design. Sound was non-negotiable; early editions faced technical failures caused by preexisting and unpredictable Nigerian problems, but the team persisted. Monochroma gained immediate widespread acceptance, but it came with hurdles. Financially, it was clear from the onset that Monochroma would be a labour of love, at least for a while. A Monochroma edition currently costs millions, an estimate that incurs a deficit in the region of millions of naira also. “We fund this from our pockets – we and our friends,” Blak Dave quipped. Sponsorship has not come easily, as it often comes with demands that dilute Monochroma’s identity and/or conflict with its ethos. 

It is essential to acknowledge that the Monochroma dream of bridging divides also entailed confronting a paradox: how to bridge Lagos’ divides without erasing the communities that gave birth to the scene. House music’s DNA is queer, spiritual, and defiantly underground, and in Nigeria, where conservative norms often clash with alternative identities, mainstream acceptance risks sanitisation. Scaling always tests principles; hence, safety must become architectural. There have been reported incidents at previous editions, and the remarkable manner with which they have been handled is representative of the premium Monochroma places on the safety of attendees. For Blak Dave, this is still the biggest wrench in the gears when trying to connect the underground with the mainstream.

After having selectors like Thakzin and Jnr SA on previous editions, Monochroma celebrated one year of success with a June lineup that included Drumetic Boyz, Ciza, and a first-time Blak Dave & Proton B2B. Of course, Monochroma’s measure of success has never been revenue, but ripple effects: strangers becoming friends on the dancefloor, Lagosians discovering Afro-house, and the rumbling hope that someday, Nigeria might have a permanent home for the sound.

Amidst all the obstacles, Blak Dave concurs that his recent successes make people think he’d been dealt favourable hands all his life. Upon closer examination, he explains, “that’s not the case at alllllll.” Blak Dave admits to benefiting from strategic, symbiotic partnerships. His partnership with Proton to bring Monochroma to life has not only been fruitful, but has borne even more fruitful partnerships. Monochroma and KVLT went into a partnership towards the end of 2024. This alignment meant KVLT became Monochroma’s operational bedrock. They handled logistics, freeing Proton and Blak Dave to focus on music curation. “They gave us structure,” he said. Very notably, when Thakzin agreed to headline in February, KVLT managed the booking, visas, and flight logistics, as well as helping to ease negotiations via existing ties to the artist’s team.

Looking ahead, future engagements hinge on deepening these relationships. Partnerships with other event collectives are in discussion, aiming for artist exchanges: Lagos DJs headlining abroad, global acts anchoring Monochroma and other culturally important movements. “It’s not about money,” Dave emphasised. “It’s about proving Lagos belongs on the global EDM map. Shout out Aniko! Haha!” The Monochroma team has plans to take Monochroma outside Lagos – beginning with other cities in Nigeria and on the continent, and then spreading overseas. The expansion plans already look destined for success, leaving Blak Dave and the team to remember to keep to the ethos on which the dream was built and to protect the builders too. While Blak Dave’s lofty long-term dreams for Afrohouse music include owning a joint that exclusively plays House music in the heart of Lagos, his immediate plans include a birthday date in Lagos with Jnr SA, DJ Lag, and friends later in July. 

For Blak Dave, every phase – the tech career, the underground parties, Monochroma’s rise, and The Third Step – has been part of the same equation, just at the sweet spots. Blak Dave has always operated at the intersection of precision and passion. His journey from software engineer to scene architect to producer of The Third Step reveals a constant thread: the belief that cultural spaces require both careful engineering and fearless experimentation. As Igoke becomes an anthem and Monochroma eyes global stages, Blak Dave’s legacy emerges not as a sudden disruption but as steady, intentional progress.