There are people who walk the expected path. Then there are people like Loc, who burn it down and build a new one from scratch.
Singer. Songwriter. Producer. Audio engineer. Call her what you will, but Loc—born Loveth Omasirichi Chisinom is a creative powerhouse who found purpose not through planning, but through spiritual alignment, gut instinct, and an unwavering will to resist the ordinary. From Port Harcourt to Lagos, from scriptwriting dreams to world-class production camps, Loc’s journey is anything but conventional.
And that’s exactly why it matters.
Loc didn’t plan to become a music producer. In fact, she never even imagined it. After NYSC in 2018, she faced what many young Nigerians face—an invisible rulebook that says the next step should be a government job or a 9–5. But she rejected that route outright. “I’ve always been a rebel,” she says, without hesitation. “I always knew my life was bigger than that.”
Her initial plan was to sell movie scripts in Lagos. A natural storyteller, she arrived with hopes of breaking into the film industry. But the feedback was sobering—her scripts required budgets far beyond what most producers were willing to risk. With no fallback, no financial backing, and no intention to return home, she stayed with a friend immersed in music.
And it was there, through boredom, curiosity, and divine orchestration, Loc stumbled upon a beat-making app on her Android phone. She had no idea what she was doing. She was just exploring. Until her friend heard the beats and said, “Do you know you’re literally producing?”
That moment was the spark.
The friend’s producer confirmed it: “You have an ear for good sound. You should be a producer.”
Loc laughed. “I came here to sell movies. What do you mean, producer?”
But something about it stuck. She leaned in. Tinkered. Experimented. Self-taught and fueled by hunger, she downloaded FL Studio and started watching YouTube videos. She built from scratch—no mentorship, no roadmap, no guarantees.
“I had no support from home,” she remembers. “People thought I’d be back in a week. But I knew—I was never going back.”
What kept her going? Purpose. Not the buzzword. Not a cliche. Real purpose.
“Purpose is that thing that lets you sleep at night—even when there’s no money in your account. It’s that deep sense that if the world ended today, you lived a life worth telling.”
Even in the darkest nights, with an empty stomach and an equally empty wallet, Loc was fulfilled. Because she knew—she was becoming.
Music production is male-dominated, especially in Nigeria. Loc wasn’t just up against the technical hurdles of being self-taught. She was challenging a system built to overlook her.
“As a guy, you could easily walk into a studio, meet another guy, and watch him produce. But as a woman, you’re either not taken seriously or you’re expected to offer something else in return.”
So she kept her distance. She stayed safe. And she taught herself.
Even when she did get into rooms, people couldn’t believe what they were hearing. “They’d ask me if I really made the beats. I’m sitting in the producer chair, and they’re still asking.”
Visibility? Low. Respect? Earned the hard way. Opportunities? Always skewed toward men.
Still, Loc persisted.
“They didn’t expect me to be a producer. But once they saw what I could do, they had to respect it.”
She put in extra work. Extra hours. Extra bounce on her kicks. Every beat became a statement: I’m here. I’m capable. And I’m better than you expect.
For someone who started from an Android app, Loc has racked up career milestones that many dream of.
Her first big break came when she was selected for a YouTube and Alicia Keys-sponsored writing camp in Ghana—her first time on a plane, her first major travel experience, all expenses paid.
“It was the best hotel I’d ever stayed in. Good food. Great vibes. And I was there because of my work. That meant the world to me.”
She met Tems. Was on video calls with Alicia Keys. She didn’t just feel seen. She felt affirmed.
Soon after, she entered an all-female writing camp led by the Vice President of Chocolate City, Aibee, and unexpectedly won a competition judged by the legendary M.I Abaga. That win solidified her confidence. “I realized—I’m not just good. I’m worthy. I belong.”
Then came her biggest highlight yet: a fully paid music residency in the United States. She was the only Nigerianselected.
“What are the chances? Out of everyone, I was the one they chose. They paid for my visa, flight, and hotel. All they asked of me was to make music. I still can’t believe it sometimes.”
The moment shifted something even deeper. For the first time, her extended family, once skeptical and dismissive of her path, called her from across the world to say they were proud. It brought her to tears.
Loc wears many hats. Producer. Engineer. Songwriter. Vocalist. And they all feed each other.
“As I’m producing, I’m already mixing. I’m thinking about the instruments, how they’ll sound, how they’ll bounce with the vocals. It’s all connected.”
She thrives in her own creative space but adapts beautifully in collaborative ones. Whether it’s through email ideas or live studio sessions, she finds ways to sync her vision with others’. But truthfully? She gets her best ideas alone. “I need that solitude. That space where I can be fully me.”
There’s a growing tribe of young women in Nigeria who now believe they can do this too. And Loc is a beacon.
“Do it scared. Do it doubting. Just do it. But only if it’s really what you want. This isn’t a career for one foot in and one foot out.”
She doesn’t sugarcoat it. The path is hard. The sacrifices are deep. The rewards are delayed. But the payoff? Eternal.
“Producers don’t have a life,” she laughs. “While artists go party, we stay back with the vocals. But when the royalties start coming, you eat for life. Your children eat. Even when you’re gone.”
Ask Loc what people often overlook about her, and she says this:
“I’m a perfectionist. I want your wildest ideas. I want to try them. I want to outdo myself. That’s the Leo in me. That’s the rebel in me.”
And that’s the mark she’s leaving behind.
Loveth. Omasirichi. Chizinom. Loc.
She didn’t just make it into the room. She built her own. And now, she’s leaving the door wide open for others to follow through.
Interview conducted and written by Andrea Andy