They Performed Four Shows for Him. He Paid Half. Then He Came for Their Careers.
It started with a friendship that went back to Senior Five. It ended — or is ending — with a public accusation of stolen millions, broken promises, and a coordinated attempt to silence two artists inside the very industry they are trying to build a future in.
Kent & Flosso of Voltage Music sat down on NRG Ignition and did what too many Ugandan artists quietly refuse to do: they talked.
Not in vague terms. Not in hints. In figures. In locations. In a timeline that leaves very little room for misinterpretation.
The unnamed DJ, they say, knows exactly who he is. And so does the industry.
The duo did not come to the interview to vent. They came with receipts.
They described being taken to Mbarara for a performance worth six million shillings. They received three million. The balance, they say, was never settled.
Back in Kampala, another show followed — two million shillings on the table. That money, too, never arrived in full.
Then came Supremacy. Another performance. Another unpaid balance.
Four shows. A pattern so consistent it stopped looking like an oversight and started looking like a policy.
“Mr. DJ, you know yourself,” Kent & Flosso said directly into the camera. “You took us to Mbarara, we were supposed to get Shs6 million but you gave us Shs3 million and took the balance.”
They named the venues. They named the amounts. The only thing they didn’t name was him.
But that’s not even the wildest part — because the money, as damaging as it is, turned out to be only half the story.
According to Kent & Flosso, the DJ didn’t stop at withholding payment.
They claim he went further — using his standing within the DJ community to actively discourage other DJs from playing their music. Their songs, they say, have been receiving less airplay as a direct result of his influence.
Think about what that means for a moment.
An artist’s income does not come only from performance fees. It comes from airplay, from visibility, from the quiet but powerful network of people who decide whose music gets heard and whose gets buried. If the allegations are accurate, this was not just theft of payment — it was an attempt to strangle a career at the root.
“Now you’re telling every DJ not to play our music,” they said, addressing him directly.
The frustration in that line is not just personal. It is existential.
Kent & Flosso are the duo behind Voltage Music, a Ugandan act that has been working to establish a solid footprint in the country’s competitive music landscape. Like many independent artists in Uganda, their career depends heavily on performance bookings and radio and club airplay to build momentum.
The DJ at the centre of the allegations is described as a well-known figure with significant influence among his peers — someone with enough reach to make or break a song’s chances of getting heard in the right spaces.
What makes the story land harder is the personal dimension. This is not a business dispute between strangers. Kent & Flosso say they have known this man since Senior Five — a friendship that predates their careers, predates the industry, predates all of this.
That history is precisely what makes the alleged betrayal so striking.
Fans immediately latched onto that line the moment the interview clip began circulating.
“That guy is our friend. We knew him when we were in Senior Five. That means the closest enemy is a friend.”
It is the kind of sentence that hits differently depending on where you are in life. For anyone who has ever been burned by someone they trusted completely, it requires no explanation.
The internet had thoughts, and they were not holding back. Comment sections filled quickly — some with sympathy for the duo, some with calls for the DJ to identify himself and respond, and more than a few from other artists who suggested, pointedly, that they had their own stories to tell about the same pattern.
Within hours the interview was moving across WhatsApp groups and social media timelines, driven less by the drama and more by the uncomfortable recognition it triggered.
Some fans believe the unnamed DJ’s identity is already an open secret within Kampala’s entertainment circles, and that the duo’s decision to stop short of naming him publicly was either strategic or a final gesture of restraint toward someone they once called a friend.
Others were less charitable, arguing that naming him publicly was the only language that would produce accountability.
It’s unclear whether the DJ has responded privately or publicly to the accusations. Sources close to Uganda’s DJ community have not confirmed any formal reply, but the pressure from the interview’s reach makes silence increasingly difficult to maintain.
Some artists who commented suggested this case is far from isolated — and that the duo, in speaking out, may have opened a door other musicians have been standing behind for years.
Behind the numbers — the six million, the three million, the two million — is something that cannot be quantified on a balance sheet.
Two young artists who trusted someone from their school days with their careers. Who showed up, performed, delivered, and came home with half of what they were owed. Who then watched their music disappear from playlists and tried to figure out whether it was coincidence or something deliberate.
Kent & Flosso ended their statement not with a threat, but with something more complicated — an appeal.
“He doesn’t pay musicians and it’s not only us complaining. There are many artists who have complained, but he can still change. Let him not be a thief.”
That is not the language of enemies. That is the language of people who still, somewhere underneath the anger, remember Senior Five.
They performed four shows, got paid for roughly two, and then watched their airplay dry up while the man who booked them reportedly told the industry to look the other way. The most damning part? They still left a door open for him to change. That is either extraordinary grace — or the saddest line in the whole story. Possibly both.
Kent & Flosso said everything except his name — and somehow, the message was louder for it. The only question now is whether the DJ in question has enough courage to step forward, or whether he’s hoping the noise dies down before anyone connects the dots.