Earlier this year, we talked about how Llona was doing something rare, touring Nigeria city by city, from the ground up. Fast forward a few months, and the story hasn’t changed.
From Lokoja to Zaria, Ibadan to Kaduna, the crowd numbers keep growing. As of now, Llona has performed in Zaria, Benin, Owerri, Kaduna, Calabar, Ilorin, Makurdi, Ago-Iwoye, Ibadan, Abeokuta, Umuahia, Lokoja, Awka, Uyo, Port Harcourt, and Lafia.
Someone joked that some of these places were only heard of when we recite “States and Capitals”, and they weren’t lying.
You know what’s crazy? These aren’t half-filled venues. They’re packed-out spaces echoing with real fans, real energy, and the type of homegrown love money can’t buy. No hype machine, no imported glam, just raw music, intentional movement, and connection that hits different.
Lafia, Nassarawa, for example, was hit with heavy rain that disrupted the setup. But fans stayed. Drenched and undeterred, they chanted, “Llona, we want to party.” That’s impact. That’s what this tour has come to mean.
https://t.co/zZ33S379iU pic.twitter.com/vRE04wOQlg
— Llona (@Boyllona_) June 21, 2025
While many chase international validation before touching home, Llona is doing the reverse. With every stop, the movement grows. This tour has become more than a schedule of performances; it’s a reminder: the people matter.
He’s giving communities across Nigeria something they rarely get, front-row access to rising greatness. These shows are showing young kids in places often overlooked by the industry, that they matter too. That their city is worth stopping in. That they’re seen.
What makes this run more impressive is that he’s doing it without a massive label machine behind him. Plus, it’s not just the fact that he’s going city to city, it’s how he’s doing it: intimately, intentionally, consistently.
And even now, he’s not slowing down.
So, while we highlighted the start of this journey earlier this year, it’s worth saying again:
Llona is still shutting down cities. And every city he enters feels less forgotten.
This is what legacy sounds like: loud, local, and unapologetically real.