Godson’s score gives ‘Ordinary People’ more than a soundtrack, creating atmosphere, deepening characterisation and heightening suspense, revelation, tension, action and loss. Sunday Okobi writes
There are sounds. There are movie sounds. And there are tension-building soundtracks that grip viewers and keep them on their seats from beginning to end with unwavering focus. They can shift from drama to chaos, from serenity to suspense, just to prepare movie enthusiasts for danger before it unfolds on screen.
This is the feeling that lingers when you watch ‘Ordinary People’, the 2026 Nollywood whodunit series on Netflix.
Directed by Moses Inwang, the adrenaline-fuelled thriller features a stellar ensemble cast, which includes Ramsey Nouah, Adunni Ade, Jackie Appiah, Uche Montana, Sharon Ooja, Lasisi Elenu, among others. Yet one of the series’ most distinctive contributions comes from behind the scenes: a score that gives its unsettling world an eerie, unpredictable pulse.
That is where Shiloh Godson comes in. As a music composer, Godson created the series’ original score, using a blend of modern electronic and traditional elements across its eight episodes.
From confrontations to shocking revelations, the music shifts seamlessly, preparing viewers for the danger and suspense ahead. Rather than relying on piercing sounds, he balances symphonic arrangements, slow strings, high-energy chaos, and carefully placed sound effects to build anxiety and suspense.
For Godson, the musical direction emerged from conversations with Inwang about the contradiction at the heart of Tornado, an upright, principled man by day and a cold-blooded murderer by night.
In his briefing, Godson enthusiastically said: “We wanted the score to hold that contradiction. The religious elements needed to feel different from what audiences might expect. We wanted the music to be able to move in unexpected directions while the choral voices still carried that sense of spirituality.”
The choral passages did not immediately sound the way they do in the finished series. Godson added: “We recorded the choristers wailing. It sounded rather strange and somewhat uncomfortable, and we reshaped them in the studio until we got the refined unsettling tone that suits the production.”
The score also gives Tornado, known as Jonas and played by Nouah, a distinct sonic identity. When he reveals himself to Ofege, the first victim viewers see him attack, a low, swelling bass motif begins to gather momentum. It suggests control and calculation, while the surrounding voices hint at the layers concealed beneath his composed exterior.
“Jonas is meticulous and strategic. He plans everything,” Godson said, adding: “He’s like an onion: you keep peeling back layers before you understand who he really is. We wanted the music to reflect that gradual reveal, with the sound building as those layers come off.”
Another carefully measured buildup occurs when Tornado finally reveals himself to his boys at the creek. The reworked version of Sound Sultan’s ‘Motherland (Area Oh)’ is followed swiftly by a symphonic arrangement that evokes Africa and stirs a sense of homecoming. The transition is both familiar and chilling, giving the moment a recognisable musical signature.
“That was the right feeling. We wanted viewers to reminisce about the importance of home and how it feels to be home. Moses Iwang and his team also contributed a lot to the soundtrack,” Godson disclosed to this journalist during a virtual coffee meeting.
In contrast, Emilia, played by Sharon Ooja, is associated with a different musical energy. Her impulsive nature comes through in sharp, forceful hits that give her scenes a distinct texture, evoking danger, hysteria, and the possibility of complete breakdown.
The contrast extends to the action sequences. During the school shootout and escape in Episode 8, electric guitars cut through the score, used sparingly but with considerable impact. Godson describes the music as a collaborative effort, crediting Inwang with playing a substantial role in shaping it during the editing process.
The result is a score built less around a single signature tune than around distinct sonic identities: choral voices that unsettle, bass that gathers like a threat, and guitars that drive the action forward. It is also the work of a wider team, including HS Choir PH, Sharon Imoukhuede, Miriam Shongotola, Olaonipekun Oluwafem, and Sneezemankind.
In a crime drama shrouded in secrets, the music does more than accompany the action. It gives viewers another way to sense what is coming and what remains concealed.
The series also demonstrates a notable level of sophistication in its sound design, particularly during its crime scenes. During gun battles between the police and Tornado’s criminal gang, for instance, viewers can almost feel their heart racing as the music tempo heightens when the armed officers stealthily make their way into the buildings without the soundtrack resorting to exaggerated, pounding effects. The restraint makes the tension more convincing, allowing silence and subtle sound cues to do some of the work.
Power, fame, lust, and wealth drive many of the characters’ actions, leading to domestic violence, kidnapping, financial disputes, murder, and confrontations with the police. Godson’s musical choices intensify these moments. They reinforce the characters’ motives and the consequences of their actions.
One striking example is when Detective Margaret enters the lair of Darey Laguda, played by Shawn Faqua. The soundscape shifts almost effortlessly as a chorus of female voices rises. It is difficult to tell whether the voices are wailing or singing, but it becomes clear that Laguda’s cover has been blown. Rather than relying on the more familiar use of songs in African screen storytelling, Godson transforms choral voices into an atmosphere suspended between the sacred and the sinister.
Through rising beats and carefully controlled shifts in tone, the score accompanies revelations about the secret lives of the rich and famous, as well as moments of trauma, celebration, deception, pain, anguish, and silence. These are no ordinary people – not simply because of their celebrity status or social standing, but because of the disturbing contrast between their respectable public personas and their sinister lives after dark.
Yet the soundtrack is not all crime, gunfire, and suspense. Romantic scenes offer brief departures from the explosive action, although even these moments can carry an undercurrent of impending doom. At times, the musical choices create an almost darkly comic effect, as though the soundtrack were warning a character to enjoy the romance now and face the consequences later.
By the final episode, Tornado’s meticulously constructed world begins to collapse when he sees the lifeless body of his wife and partner in crime, Chinelo (Dunni), on the floor. It is an unmistakable oh-oh moment. The pulse begins to dwindle, growing slower and slower, as the music holds viewers in the aftermath of the revelation.
Then the tension surges again! Through guitars and synths, Godson sustains the unease as Tornado reacts to Dunni’s death and the firebomb unleashes destruction. The sound intensifies the moment, carrying the emotional weight of the scene while driving the series towards its explosive conclusion.
Undoubtedly, Godson’s work gives Ordinary People more than a soundtrack. It creates an atmosphere, deepens characterisation, and shapes how viewers experience suspense, revelation, and loss. In the entire series, although appearances are deceptive and secrets thrive, the sound gives them a pulse to follow – and a warning that something is never quite as ordinary as it seems. It was worth the time investment!