“I don’t even know what that is,” says Nneka Egbuna. We’ve just referred to the Nigerian-born singer as neo-soul, and she is totally bemused.

“I’ve never heard that. I don’t understand it. I would say I’m like afro…afro…afro soul? AfroNneka? I don’t know!” She laughs, a gentle, tinkling sound, a counterpoint to her heavily accented, almost sing-song English.

It is, to be frank, a little hard not to think of the songstress as neo-soul, one of those bizarre sub-genres that always seems to come about when people start experimenting and blending types of music. Nneka is, at her most straightforward, a soul singer. But one listen to her new record, the excellent No Longer at Ease, blows those assumptions out of the water. Her voice, tinged with African flavour, is epic: she is one of the most naturally gifted vocalists we’ve ever heard, comparable to early Erykah Badu. But despite her singing background, she has no compunction about flirting with hip-hop, reggae, R&B or even a little drum and bass.

It’s very good music, if a little complex. The description is fitting, because so is Nneka (it’s pronounced ‘Near-ka’) herself. On the phone from a district exchange office in Germany – she shuttles between Europe and Nigeria and is trying to get her passport extended – the afro-rocking singer comes across as friendly and open, but often contradictory. She’s hesitant too, pausing several times between answers.

We’re not sure she’s just understood our last question either. We’ve just asked why somebody should go to a Nneka live show. “Why?” She pauses for a moment. “Well first of all, if you haven’t seen me before then it’s always good to get to know something new. Secondly, it can’t harm anybody, and I don’t think [the night costs] that much.”

Er, not quite the ringing endorsement we were looking for, but she continues: “You’re not losing anything. And because of the love and the music. I don’t compare myself to anybody. There is no competition. That’s what makes me unique.”
Of course, with so many different styles of music, Nneka must surely need a fair sized live outfit on stage with her. She says no, but then goes on to say, “I just have a simple setup – bass, guitar, drums, MPC, keys and myself. There’s like six of us onstage.” So, not really that large at all, then.

She says that although her music has not met as big a response as she’d like in Germany, she always looks forward to London shows. “I’ve performed a couple of times in London,” she says. “I’ve seen the reaction...my music is universal. English people speak English and they understand my English better than Germans and French understand my English. Let’s keep our fingers crossed that they embrace it!”

One thing notable about Nneka’s music, aside from her epic voice and the slick production values, is her subject matter. She draws on the deep tradition of political soul music to address problems she sees in society – both in Nigeria and the rest of the world. She does try to say that she isn’t a political artist: “I would not consider myself – like many journalists say – knowledgeable enough to put myself in that position. I’m learning a lot and I stress political issues but on the other hand I would not say I’m like, you know…political.”

So most journalists paint her as something she’s not?
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. All I’m saying is that I’m stressing issues important to the common man, that concern everybody, that people are not courageous enough to talk about, whether corruption or bribery or exploitation. All this concerns everybody.”

If there is one issue close to Nneka’s heart, it is drilling for oil in the Niger Delta, her childhood home. She singles out the Shell Corporation, whose oil-aquisition activities in the Delta have been well-documented. The corporation allegedly colluded with the government in several big oil deals, which were disastrous to both the local population and the extremely fragile ecosystem of the Delta. They have just been forced to settle with the families of nine activists, executed by the government in 1995. One of them, Ken Saro-Wiwa, had directly accused the corporation of being complicit in human rights abuses. His case in particular seems very important to Nneka. “I grew up in the Niger Delta,” she says. “I’ve seen with my own eyes and felt with my own skin what has been happening back home.”

Her relationship with her home country is complicated, and it informs her musical outlook extensively. “I didn’t leave Nigeria!” she says, when we ask why she’s chosen Europe. “I live in Nigeria now! I live in Lagos, and shuttle between [there] and Europe. There was a time three years after I left Nigeria for the first time – in 2000 – that I didn’t go back for two and a half years.”

She goes on, explaining that while her real mother was white, the one who raised her was black. “Coming to Germany, that was one reason, seeing if I could find my white roots, but that didn’t work out too well,” she explains. “Nigeria is a difficult place, and then the family issues…like in a fairytale. You know Cinderella? The Black Cinderella! Jokes, jokes, jokes. But yeah, that was one reason. Ever since I came here, I’ve realised that Germany and Europe are not what I thought they were.” She ended up completing a degree in anthropology and archaeology before focusing on music full time.

Whatever we – or indeed Nneka – think her music is or isn’t, there’s no question that it’s worth checking out. She’s coming to London this month to rock Cargo, and if you want to experience that beautiful, soulful voice, you’d better get down there. Hey, it won’t harm anybody, and it probably won’t cost that much.