The outrage comes every year now. After every Telecel Ghana Music Awards ceremony, social media turns into a courtroom. One side insists the event was embarrassing: poor stage design, awkward transitions, uninspired lighting, weak camera work, bad red carpet interviews, and MCs struggling to hold the night together. The other side pushes back, accusing critics of excessive negativity and unfair comparisons to Nigeria.
This year, the comparison dominating the conversation has been between the TGMAs and the African Magic Viewers’ Choice Awards (AMVCA) in Nigeria, which ironically were held on the same day, same weekend. Ghanaians have pointed to the polish of the AMVCAs: the glamour, the production quality, the confidence of the hosts, the celebrity culture, the red carpet theatrics, and the sheer scale of attention the event commands across Africa. And honestly, the comparison is healthy. Creative industries grow through pressure, critique, and aspiration. No entertainment ecosystem improves by being shielded from criticism. If Nigerians can build an awards culture that feels aspirational and globally marketable, then Ghanaian audiences are right to ask why our flagship entertainment events often feel underwhelming despite the immense talent in this country.
But the deeper issue is not stage lighting, it is not camera angles, it is not even the MCs. The real problem is that Ghana does not yet have a fully functioning entertainment industry structure strong enough to sustain the kind of spectacle people are demanding. That is the uncomfortable truth. Awards shows are not magic; they are reflections of the industries that produce them. A great awards ceremony is usually the final product of a powerful entertainment ecosystem, one with strong celebrity culture, serious investment, aggressive PR machinery, talent development pipelines, media institutions, stylists, creative directors, publicists, fashion industries, fan culture, sponsorship confidence, and personalities large enough to command obsession.
Nigeria has spent over two decades building that machine, while Ghana, unfortunately, is still trying to improvise one. This is why conversations about the TGMAs often become shallow. We tend to focus on symptoms instead of structure; we critique the aesthetics without also examining the ecosystem underneath them. Take the red carpet conversation, for example.
Many people are complaining that the fashion felt uninspired and lacked the wow-factor associated with major African award shows, but fashion moments do not happen in isolation. Iconic red carpet culture is built on a strong celebrity-fashion ecosystem where stylists, designers, glam teams, photographers, bloggers, entertainment journalists, and celebrities all understand that visibility is currency. And so, in Nigeria, celebrities prepare for the AMVCAs months in advance because the culture rewards spectacle. Fashion is not treated as a side attraction. It is part of the economy of fame.
Meanwhile, in Ghana, many celebrities have no option but to approach major events casually because our industry has not fully commercialised celebrity culture. The incentive structures are weaker, the media ecosystem is smaller, the PR circuits are inconsistent and public fascination with stars rises and dies quickly. And that leads us to the biggest issue of all: Ghana is running out of truly revered creative personalities. Not just talented people, but personalities. There is a difference.
Let’s consider, for example, Joselyn Dumas’ rise to fame in the late 2000s. From her memorable performances in Sparrow Productions films to her stylish presence on The One Show on the iconic Viasat1 channel, she quickly became one of the most recognisable faces in Ghanaian entertainment. Audiences admired not only her charisma on screen but also her fashion choices, especially the African print looks and edgy hairstyles that became part of her signature appeal. Then came the milestone that cemented her celebrity status for many young women at the time: her ambassadorial partnership with Range Rover. For a generation of girls watching from afar, the Range Rover Evoque became more than a car; it symbolised glamour, sophistication, and modern womanhood.
What made Joselyn’s stardom especially compelling, however, was the air of mystery around her. She was stunning and seemingly arrived out of nowhere, which only deepened public curiosity. Conversations around her weight-loss journey and her stunning curves, her daughter, and the absence of public knowledge about her daughter’s father all fed into the fascination that surrounded her celebrity persona.
In much the same way, Lydia Forson cultivated a presence that felt both refreshing and revolutionary. At a time when beauty standards in African media still leaned heavily toward Eurocentric aesthetics, Lydia boldly normalised coloured natural hair on movie sets and formal red carpets. She was bubbly, outspoken, curvy, and unapologetically herself, qualities that resonated deeply with many young women who rarely saw their realities reflected on screen. Beyond her image, her performances in Shirley Frimpong-Manso’s films remain some of the finest acting performances Ghana’s film industry has produced. Her roles carried emotional intelligence, wit, vulnerability, and authenticity, helping redefine what leading women in Ghanaian cinema could look and sound like.
An entertainment industry survives on mythology. On larger-than-life figures people admire, obsess over, defend online, imitate, fantasise about, and emotionally invest in. The industry needs stars who feel untouchable yet fascinating. Ghana still has talented artists, actors, presenters, comedians, and creatives. But we no longer produce enough cultural giants with enduring mystique and mass emotional pull.
That is why many entertainment events now feel emotionally flat. The audience no longer arrives with deep excitement around personalities. There are fewer celebrities people are genuinely desperate to see, fewer stars capable of creating unforgettable moments simply by entering a room, and fewer public figures with a sustained aura. And this is not entirely the fault of the creatives themselves; our industry structure does not protect or build stardom properly. We consume our celebrities too quickly. We overexpose them online without carefully crafting mystique, tear them down aggressively, and fail to invest in artist development. We do not consistently create media ecosystems that elevate personalities into cultural institutions.
In stronger entertainment industries, celebrity is manufactured intentionally: PR teams curate narratives, while media houses amplify personas. Stylists shape aesthetics, while Publicists control access. Managers think long-term, and so Fans become communities. But in Ghana, many creatives are left to build celebrity alone with minimal institutional support,t and that is why even our awards shows struggle to feel grand. Spectacle requires mythology, grandeur requires stars, and a red carpet becomes iconic when audiences are emotionally invested in the people walking on it.
Even the issue of MCs reflects this larger structural weakness: people complained that the hosting lacked charisma and fluidity compared to bigger African productions. But again, where is the talent pipeline for elite live television hosts in Ghana? Where are the systems grooming fresh world-class entertainment presenters consistently? Where are the institutions investing in live production excellence as a discipline?
We often expect excellence without investing in the ecosystem that produces it, and yet, none of this means Ghana lacks potential. Far from it. Ghana arguably possesses some of the most naturally talented creatives on the continent: our musicians remain culturally influential, our fashion scene is rich with brilliance, our filmmakers are trying to rebuild momentum, our digital creators are gaining international attention, and our audiences are engaged and opinionated.
So, the frustration many Ghanaians feel about the TGMAs actually comes from belief; people criticise because they know Ghana can do better. But improvement will not come simply from changing stage designers or hiring different hosts every year; it requires deeper structural thinking:
We need stronger entertainment institutions.
We need long-term investment in celebrity development.
We need media ecosystems that build mystique instead of reducing every public figure to constant accessibility.
We need a better PR culture.
We need creative directors with authority.
We need talent grooming structures.
We need executives who understand that entertainment is not just art; it is psychology, aspiration, illusion, and power.
Most importantly, we need to rebuild the culture of stardom in Ghana.
Because at the centre of every unforgettable entertainment industry are personalities people truly revere, not just artists people stream, but stars that people believe in.
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Author’s Bio: Dr Efe Plange is an Assistant Professor of Rhetoric whose scholarship focuses on feminist rhetorics, African digital cultural rhetorics, and feminist media literacy, with particular attention to how African and Black women use digital platforms to challenge patriarchal narratives and build empowering counterpublics. She is the founder and director of Plange Media Lab, a culturally responsive communication and media strategy initiative that helps institutions, creators, and brands craft inclusive, socially conscious messaging. Beyond academia, Dr Plange is a gender advocate (of the pepper variety) committed to disrupting patriarchy, shifting culture, and helping build safer, more equitable worlds for women and girls.
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