Before TikTok dance challenges. Before hashtags like #GospelOnRepeat or #SundayVibes. Before Instagram reels with different filters and a strong ring light, there were voices.

Pure, raw, fire-soaked voices that didn’t need social media algorithms to trend. They didn’t have a manager, or a label running ads in the background. But somehow — by divine design, hard work, and serious anointing — Evangelist Bola Are, Pastor J. A. Adelakun (Ayewa), and Evangelist Ojo Ade made their mark. And not just a small one — their songs became household hymns. Their albums were massively sold out. Their messages stuck like memory verses.

So, how did they do it? And more importantly, what can today’s gospel artists learn from their stories — especially in this clout-chasing, click-counting era?

Let’s get into it. 

1. No Label? No Wahala

Back in the 70s and 80s, the term “record label” was as foreign to the average gospel artist as auto-tune would be to King David. These ministers didn’t wait around for Universal Music or Sony to come knocking. They recorded their songs with raw faith and a little analog hustle. Their “studio” might’ve been a one-room setup, and their “promotion” was church crusades and word-of-mouth. Yet, they moved tapes across cities like fire in dry harmattan. 

Evangelist Bola Are, for instance, didn’t need a trendy marketing team to push her music. Her voice alone could pierce through the hardest heart — no digital mastering required. Her lyrics were scripture-soaked, her delivery passionate, and her messages eternal. When she sang, it wasn’t for applause — it was for impact. So, they don’t experience stress around copyrights, royalties, or even management brouhaha as we do now. 

2. Ministry Over Industry

Pastor J. A. Adelakun, famously known for Ayewa, didn’tjust go viral — he went revival. His albums weren’t made for charts; they were made for souls. Each track was like a mini sermon. Songs like “Amona Tete Mabo” didn’t need a trending tag. People heard them once and never forgot.

Watch Amona Tete Mabo

And here’s the thing: these men and women didn’t see music as a career path — they saw it as a divine assignment. That authenticity bled through every lyric. There was no “branding strategy,” yet their names were brands in themselves. Why? Because they were consistent, Spirit-led, and purposeful.

3. Distribution by Foot, Faith & Favor

Now, how did they distribute these songs? Hold your breath — they sold tapes and CDs in car parks, bus stations, and church compound corners. Their marketing strategy? Your aunt, my Dad, our Big Mummies who bought the cassette and forced every family member to listen during family devotions–those ones, are their unofficial marketers.

Evang. Ojo Ade’s albums, for example, were so rooted in culture, so musically layered, that even non-Christians respected the artistry. He fused Yoruba spirituality with gospel truth in a way that was captivating. The “Iyawo Obun” song was a typical example. People would queue at Alaba market just to buy the next volume of his songs. If Spotify had been around, his streams would’ve crashed the server.

Watch Iyawo Tabi Eemo by Evang Ojo Ade

And if you’re wondering “what’s the takeaway for today’s gospel hopefuls?” Well, here you have it:

• Be more concerned about your oil than your audience.

A well-crafted Instagram page with no anointing is just a pretty poster.

• You don’t need a label to start — just a voice and a message.

Don’t wait to be “discovered.” Start where you are. If they could make tapes move across borders on foot, what excuse do we have with AirDrop and Google Drive?

• Consistency trumps virality.

The reason Bola Are and Adelakun are still relevant isn’t because of one hit — it’s because they kept showing up, year after year, with music that mattered. Don’t just show up, show up well. 

• Know your assignment.

Fame fades. But songs birthed from the secret place never die.

Before the “era of exposure,” there was the era of endurance. Before influencers, there were intercessors. Before studio tricks, there was sincerity. These legends — Bola Are, J. A. Adelakun, and Ojo Ade — built ministries with no marketing budget, no streaming royalties, and definitely no label advances.

So the next time you feel discouraged about low engagement on your latest single, remember this: God was moving music before social media ever existed. And if He did it for them, He can do it for you too.