There is a particular kind of silence that follows a golden age, not the silence of rest, but of confusion. Uganda’s music industry is currently trapped inside that silence. A country that produced Jose Chameleone, Bebe Cool, Bobi Wine and Radio & Weasel, and which gave the world Eddy Kenzo, now seems to be struggling to produce a single song that outlasts the TikTok-sound craze. The reasons are not mysterious. They are structural, economic and heavily political.

In this article, we look at one of the industry’s most persistent problems: the strained relationship between artistes and promoters, and the financial pressures driving them further apart, ultimately threatening the very relationship many artistes and promoters rely on for their livelihoods.

In most mature music economies, the relationship between promoters and artistes is governed by binding contracts and enforceable rights frameworks. In Uganda, it is largely proximity to political power and the ability to shout louder or stay silent longer.

Take Abbey Musinguzi, commonly known as Abitex Promotions, a huge music events promoter in Uganda. His philosophy, as observed over years, is one of artiste disposability. Many artistes argue Abitex is shrewd and financially tight-fisted; when an A-list artiste, say, Jose Chameleone, rejects a performance fee as inadequate, he does not raise the offer. He finds three B-list artistes for the price of one, then quietly circulates an instruction through the promoters’ association: do not ever book Chameleone. Let him feel the desperation of an empty calendar. Belittle the artiste financially, own him, pay him what you think he deserves, and destroy his bargaining power.

Ugandan artistes, including Chance Nalubega and Weasel, Alien Skin, and Pallaso, all claim to have experienced this machinery. On one or two occasions, he has even publicly called them ‘off-layers.’

Spice Diana’s story within the system is not a collection of incidents. It is a pattern, and the recent Bukomansimbi episode is only its latest chapter.

Spice Diana has spoken publicly and repeatedly about promoters undermining her, refusing to pay after performances, calling fellow promoters to discourage bookings, questioning her relevance, and working to make her appear commercially unviable.

However, to understand why Ugandan promoters play cat and mouse with artistes, you first have to understand what they are walking into every time they organise a music event. A concert in Uganda is not, by default, a profitable venture. It is a high-stakes gamble staged in an environment designed to make losing money easier than making it.

The cost structure alone is punishing. A promoter must secure a venue and various licenses, hire a PA system and production crew, pay for police security, print and distribute tickets, run media promotion across radio, TV and social media, and then pay the artiste’s booking fee, often partially upfront. None of these costs warrants a successful event. They are committed expenses. And then, yawzzaahhh…URA comes knocking.

URA taxes 18% of gate collections from entertainment events. This is not a profit tax; it is a revenue tax, taken from ticket sales before the promoter has had a chance to offset the costs incurred. Musa Kavuma of KT Promotions says: “There are times when you have not yet made a shilling, but URA is already at the gate demanding tax.”

In a bid that will bite artistes deeper and sour their relationship with promoters further, an additional 6% withholding tax on payments to local artistes was recently approved in April 2026, with promoters required to deduct it at source on behalf of URA. Fundukululu hitmaker, Phina Masanyalaze, like most artistes, has called this “insane,” arguing that the industry cannot be milked before it is fed.

This is the context in which artiste fee negotiations happen. A promoter is not sitting across from an artiste from a position of financial strength. In many cases, they are sitting across from them already counting potential losses, trying to manage the single largest controllable variable in their budget: the artiste.

This should not excuse coercion, cheating or blacklisting. But it explains why the pressure to suppress artiste fees is so constant, and why the promoter’s first instinct when an artiste pushes back on their offer is not generosity; it is the search for a cheaper replacement.

The more troubling issue is what happens when that pressure is the norm. The financial justification for low fees hardens into an attitude that artistes are replaceable and their bargaining power is something to be broken. Yet promoters and artistes depend on each other. A promoter needs artistes who can attract audiences that will bring a return on their investment, while artistes need promoters who can put them on stages and get people through the gates.

They can, but the financial risk and logistical burden that comes with putting on a show can be just as daunting.