Long before the industry learned to respect streamers, Dayo had already understood them.
It was not because he was smarter than every executive who sat behind glass desks and spoke in marketing language, although some days he certainly felt that way. It was because he had lived once in a world where culture no longer moved only through radio towers, television studios, award shows, or magazine covers. In that world, attention had become fragmented, tribal, fast, emotional, and deeply personal. A song could be technically excellent and still die in silence if it failed to enter the rooms where ordinary people gathered every night to laugh, argue, react, and feel as if they belonged to something larger than themselves.
