Under Nigeria's Copyright Act 2022, commissioning a work gives you a non-exclusive license for non-commercial use and nothing resembling ownership.
Section 28 subsection 3 says it plainly. The commissioner gets limited use and a right to stop unauthorized publication. Ownership turns entirely on what the contract says, and most Nigerian sessions do not produce a contract.
Which is a problem that stays invisible for years and then surfaces at the worst moment, usually when somebody finally wants to pay you. The film and advert money a catalogue can attract only reaches artists who can demonstrate they hold the rights being bought.
Read that again if you funded your own session. The person who paid for the recording holds the recording copyright unless the paperwork says otherwise, and in plenty of Nigerian cases, the person who paid was somebody's uncle.
Joint authorship carries its own trap. Section 30 subsection 6 vests ownership in all co-authors where contributions merge into a single inseparable whole, and co-authors share equal rights unless they have contractually excluded themselves.
So the friend who suggested the hook in the booth may hold an equal share of the composition. Not a proportionate share reflecting effort. An equal one, until a document says something different.
Employment does not resolve it cleanly either. The Act addresses government and contracted work but stays silent on private-sector employees, leaving courts to infer ownership from the purpose of the employment and what both parties reasonably expected.
An in-house producer on an informal retainer therefore sits in genuine legal ambiguity, which is exactly the condition a buyer's lawyer will refuse to accept.
That is fine for release. It is fatal for licensing. A supervisor clearing a track needs unencumbered rights across every musical component, and with a shared instrumental they would theoretically need permission from every artist who used it.
Nobody does that. The track simply becomes unsuitable, and you are never told why.
Standard lease terms make it worse in ways artists rarely read. Caps on the number of commercial releases. Streaming ceilings per platform. Restrictions on resale or re-licensing. Publishing is frequently split fifty-fifty with the beatmaker as a default.
There is a second, quieter cost. Automated systems flag multiple songs carrying the same instrumental, which produces disputed claims and revenue diverted to whoever registered first.
What a buyer actually needs is short and specific. Explicit master use and sync rights inside the license, documented publishing splits, and a warranty from the producer that the beat is original and unencumbered. In practice, that means an exclusive or buyout arrangement rather than a lease.
Establishing who actually owns a Nigerian record is therefore a decision made at the point of purchase, months or years before any opportunity appears.
Verbal agreements do not transfer ownership. Neither does a bank transfer, a screenshot of a chat, or a long friendship with the producer.
Handing over the files does not do it either, since transferring the physical work does not carry the copyright with it. The stems can be on your drive while the rights are not.
That single rule turns the split sheet from an administrative chore into the document that decides whether a song is sellable. Names, roles, percentages, signatures, dated at the session rather than reconstructed later.
It also determines whether the collection paperwork most artists skip can even be completed, because you cannot register splits you never agreed to and cannot evidence.
The uncomfortable part is that this is retroactive work for most catalogues. Songs already released on leased beats, with unsigned co-writes and undocumented producer arrangements, cannot be cleaned up unilaterally. They need the other parties to sign something now, while everybody is still on speaking terms and before anyone has a reason to hold out for more.
Section 28 subsection 3 says it plainly. The commissioner gets limited use and a right to stop unauthorized publication. Ownership turns entirely on what the contract says, and most Nigerian sessions do not produce a contract.
Which is a problem that stays invisible for years and then surfaces at the worst moment, usually when somebody finally wants to pay you. The film and advert money a catalogue can attract only reaches artists who can demonstrate they hold the rights being bought.
The statute hands ownership to people you did not expect
Start with the default rules, because they are not intuitive. Under Section 28 subsection 1, the author owns a musical work, but a sound recording is owned by the producer or financier.Read that again if you funded your own session. The person who paid for the recording holds the recording copyright unless the paperwork says otherwise, and in plenty of Nigerian cases, the person who paid was somebody's uncle.
Joint authorship carries its own trap. Section 30 subsection 6 vests ownership in all co-authors where contributions merge into a single inseparable whole, and co-authors share equal rights unless they have contractually excluded themselves.
So the friend who suggested the hook in the booth may hold an equal share of the composition. Not a proportionate share reflecting effort. An equal one, until a document says something different.
Employment does not resolve it cleanly either. The Act addresses government and contracted work but stays silent on private-sector employees, leaving courts to infer ownership from the purpose of the employment and what both parties reasonably expected.
An in-house producer on an informal retainer therefore sits in genuine legal ambiguity, which is exactly the condition a buyer's lawyer will refuse to accept.
A leased beat cannot carry a clearance
Most working Nigerian artists build over leased instrumentals, and a lease is non-exclusive by definition. The same beat is sitting under other people's songs right nowThat is fine for release. It is fatal for licensing. A supervisor clearing a track needs unencumbered rights across every musical component, and with a shared instrumental they would theoretically need permission from every artist who used it.
Nobody does that. The track simply becomes unsuitable, and you are never told why.
Standard lease terms make it worse in ways artists rarely read. Caps on the number of commercial releases. Streaming ceilings per platform. Restrictions on resale or re-licensing. Publishing is frequently split fifty-fifty with the beatmaker as a default.
There is a second, quieter cost. Automated systems flag multiple songs carrying the same instrumental, which produces disputed claims and revenue diverted to whoever registered first.
What a buyer actually needs is short and specific. Explicit master use and sync rights inside the license, documented publishing splits, and a warranty from the producer that the beat is original and unencumbered. In practice, that means an exclusive or buyout arrangement rather than a lease.
Establishing who actually owns a Nigerian record is therefore a decision made at the point of purchase, months or years before any opportunity appears.
Nothing counts unless it was written down and signed
Section 30 sets the formality that undoes most informal arrangements. An assignment or an exclusive license of copyright is only valid when it is in writing and executed.Verbal agreements do not transfer ownership. Neither does a bank transfer, a screenshot of a chat, or a long friendship with the producer.
Handing over the files does not do it either, since transferring the physical work does not carry the copyright with it. The stems can be on your drive while the rights are not.
That single rule turns the split sheet from an administrative chore into the document that decides whether a song is sellable. Names, roles, percentages, signatures, dated at the session rather than reconstructed later.
It also determines whether the collection paperwork most artists skip can even be completed, because you cannot register splits you never agreed to and cannot evidence.
The uncomfortable part is that this is retroactive work for most catalogues. Songs already released on leased beats, with unsigned co-writes and undocumented producer arrangements, cannot be cleaned up unilaterally. They need the other parties to sign something now, while everybody is still on speaking terms and before anyone has a reason to hold out for more.
