It started with a tweet, not a stage.
“Azawi, me as me, i authorize you to play my music for free without fears of copyright violations.”
Priscilla Zawedde, better known as Azawi, posted that on her Twitter handle this week. DJs screenshotted it. Bar owners in Ntinda and Makindye printed it. For a minute, it looked like all Ugandan music was free for everyone, forever.
Then the replies came.
When a filmmaker asked, “Those planning to shoot series and documentaries — can we use your music in the background anytime necessary?” Azawi answered: “With this, you will have to get permission first or a sync license because the fingerprint IP will automatically censor it out the moment you upload it anywhere. The only way you can use my music for free is at events like birthday parties, house parties, in the bar..etc.”
She’s expected to issue a formal press release soon to clarify further. But the tweet alone already landed in the middle of Uganda’s biggest copyright shift in 20 years.
On April 29, 2026, President Museveni assented to the Copyright and Neighbouring Rights (Amendment) Act, 2026. Eddy Kenzo, as President of the Uganda National Musicians Federation, also assented to the bill after years of lobbying. Parliament had passed it on March 17, 2026.
The timing isn’t coincidence. The law changed. So artists are changing how they talk about rights.
What Azawi’s Tweet Actually Means — Line by Line
Azawi didn’t abolish copyright. She used it.
Copyright gives her two separate powers: performance rights and sync rights. She chose to give away one and keep the other.
“Play my music for free… at events like birthday parties, house parties, in the bar”
This is a public performance license, granted directly by the artist. It’s legal. It’s binding. If you’re a DJ at Club Guvnor or you run a mobile disco in Mbale, you can play Ten Over Ten tonight. You won’t get sued. You won’t get raided.
Why would she do this? Because for years, collecting bodies chased bars for fees but artists never saw the cash. So bars stopped playing Ugandan music. Azawi just cut the middleman and gave the culture back to the street.
“For series and documentaries, you’ll need permission or a sync license”
This is where most Ugandans get trapped. “Sync” means putting music to video. Your wedding highlights. Your TikTok vlog. Your NGO documentary on Karamoja. Your travel YouTube channel.
The moment you upload that video, YouTube’s Content ID, Facebook’s Rights Manager, and TikTok’s audio match scan it. If Azawi’s fingerprint is there and you don’t have a license, the system will mute it, block it, or take your ad money. Azawi can’t stop that. Swangz Avenue can’t stop it. The 2026 Act requires platforms to do it.
So “free” ends where “upload” begins.
Why The 2026 Act Makes Azawi’s Tweet Legally Powerful
The old 2006 Act was written for CDs. The 2026 Amendment was written for the internet. Three changes matter:
Artists Can License Directly. Before, only labels and collecting societies could grant rights. Now, Azawi’s tweet is a valid public license for performance. If UPRS comes to your bar, show them the tweet. If they still harass you, the law is now on your side.
Digital Fingerprinting Is Law. Platforms must block or takedown unlicensed music in videos. “But I tagged her” is not a defense. “But it’s for exposure” is not a defense. No sync license, no post.
Penalties Are Real Now. Commercial infringement — using music in an ad, film, or monetized YouTube video without permission — can bring heavy fines and jail. The era of “sorry, I didn’t know” is over. The law assumes you have internet. You could have checked.
Eddy Kenzo didn’t push this law to punish fans. He pushed it because too many musicians die poor while their songs make other people rich. Azawi is protecting her income without punishing her listeners.
The Dangerous Misunderstanding Spreading on WhatsApp
After Azawi’s tweet, messages started moving: “Azawi music is now free. Use it anywhere.”
That’s how creators get their channels deleted.
Free to perform = The DJ plays it. The bar plays it. You dance. It ends. No copy is made. No money is made from the song itself.
Free to sync = You attach it to a video that lives forever, gets views, earns money, promotes your business. That’s commercial use. That pays rent.
Azawi feeds her band from sync. She pays her producer from sync. She pays Swangz from sync. If you take sync for free, you take her salary.
Her upcoming press release will likely repeat this: “I love you, but I’m not your free soundtrack.” And she’s right.
What You Should Do Before Her Press Release Drops
If You Run a Bar, Club, or Mobile Disco:
Screenshot Azawi’s tweet. Print it. Laminate it. Put it behind the bar. It’s your legal shield.
Make an “Azawi Night” and promote it. She gave you marketing. Use it. “Officially authorized by the artist.”
Don’t assume this covers Sheebah, Fik Fameica, or Nigerian music. Each artist must give their own permission. Azawi spoke for Azawi.
If You’re a YouTuber, Filmmaker, or Wedding Videographer:
Stop uploading videos with her music until you have written permission. A DM reply of “yes you can use it for your wedding video” counts — screenshot it.
Add a “Music Budget” line to every client quote. If they want Azawi, tell them: “Sync license is Shs200k-Shs1M depending on use.” Let them choose free music or paid music.
Learn the words “royalty-free” and “Creative Commons.” YouTube Audio Library exists. Epidemic Sound exists. Your channel dying because of a Quinamino chorus doesn’t have to exist.
If You’re an Artist Reading This:
Copy Azawi’s model, but be clearer. Tweet a graphic: Green tick = Bars, Clubs, Weddings. Red X = YouTube, TikTok, Ads, Film. Pin it.
Register your songs with URSB and YouTube Content ID this week. The 2026 Act has teeth, but only if your fingerprint is in the system.
Set public sync rates. “YouTube under 100k subs: $50. TV: $500. Ads: DM.” When you name a price, you stop the “is it free?” question.
The Real Test of the New Law Isn’t in Court. It’s in Culture.
For years Uganda had a broken deal: artists made music, the public stole it, everyone complained. The 2026 Act tries to fix the law. Azawi’s tweet tries to fix the culture.
She’s saying: “Enjoy my work. But respect my work.”
You can dance to her for free. You cannot build your brand on her for free.
When her press release comes, it will likely say the same thing with legal language. But the principle is already clear from her Twitter handle:
Permission is not piracy. Generosity is not surrender.
And “free” is not the same as “yours.”
So DJ, yes — proceed to play Azawi’s music free of charge this weekend.
But filmmaker, before you hit “upload,” hit her DMs. Or your video will hit a copyright block.
The law changed on April 29, 2026. Azawi tweeted after it.
Act like you know both.
