When Marvel‘s Black Panther premiered in February 2018, it was more than just a superhero movie; it was a cultural movement. In a time when audiences were getting tired of the Marvel formula of replacing creative risks with unnecessary jokes (and let’s not forget the lineup of superheroes that looked like the cast of Friends), Black Panther was visually vibrant, epic and far removed from the overly manufactured stories we’d come to know Marvel for. 

Making over $1 billion worldwide, and almost ₦1 billion in Nigeria, Black Panther was a massive success. And just like everyone else, I was excited about a sequel. Then the film’s lead actor, Chadwick Boseman, passed away in 2020, leaving a massive void in the Black Panther world, and honestly, in the real world as well. 

Arriving as one of the year’s most anticipated films, Black Panther: Wakanda Forever had huge shoes to fill. It had to deal with the passing of its lead character on screen, follow the Marvel formula of being bigger than its predecessor in every way possible, meet the expectation of Black people, who have placed the first one on a pedestal, and still lay the groundwork for at least two or three upcoming Marvel films/TV shows. 

That’s too much for one film. 

In Black Panther: Wakanda Forever, we meet the women T’challa, aka Black Panther, left behind. His sister, Shuri (Letitia Wright) is dealing with her inability to save her brother despite being one of the brightest minds in the Marvel universe. Okoye (Danai Gurirra), the ever-loyal Dora Milaje leader (who M’baku calls a “bald demon” in one hilarious scene), is focused on physically protecting her country. While Queen Ramonda (Angela Bassett), T’Challa’s mother, is forced to quickly deal with her grief, assume the throne and protect Wakanda from colonisers trying to steal vibranium. 

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever also introduces Namor (Tenoch Huerta), the king of Talokan, an underwater city rich in, wait for it, vibranium. After the US develops a vibranium-detecting machine that brings them close to his people, Talokan gets pissed and kills them. But that’s not enough for this demi-god who can swim and fly. He also makes his way to Wakanda and demands that Queen Ramonda bring the scientist who made this vibranium machine to him. If not, he’d be more than happy to deal with Wakanda and its people. 

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Namor’s introduction into the story is great, but it also sends it down a path that’s all too familiar for Marvel fans. While the first Black Panther was contained and dealt with the story of it’s main characters without the interference of the outside Marvel world, the mission to find this scientist pushes the story into the regular “we must introduce a character from our upcoming film/ TV show”  pattern. In comes Riri Williams (Dominique Thorne), aka Ironheart (from the upcoming Ironheart TV show, duh). 

Don’t get me wrong, I love all the Riris in Wakanda’s world, including Rihanna, but Riri Williams is introduced as the new teenage comic relief now that Shuri is too busy dealing with grief to be funny. We also spend too much time with CIA agent, Everett Ross (Martin Freeman), and his ex-wife/CIA boss, Valentina (Julia Louis-Dreyfus). Their dispute is cute but does nothing to push the story along. Also, the fewer colonisers I see on my screen, the better. The unnecessary funny scenes with these characters take away from time that could’ve been spent focusing on building Namor’s world a bit more. 

We’re introduced to the Talokan city after Shuri offers herself as a living sacrifice to Namor (a guy who looks like that, I’d be a sacrifice too, for sure), but it feels brief. Outside of Namor, the other Talokans don’t feel fully developed beyond being just an army. 

Another underutilised character is Aneka (Michaela Coel), who plays one of the Dora Milaje turned Midnight Angels. In interviews leading up to the film’s release, Michaela spoke about accepting the role because it helped portray a queer couple in the Marvel Universe. Outside of these interviews (which I’m sure the average audience doesn’t know about), nothing hints at Aneka and Ayo, another Dora Milaje soldier, being in a relationship. Aneka gives Ayo a peck on the head in the closing scene, but it’s a “blink, and you’ll miss it” moment. I get the “show, don’t tell” filmmaking technique, but nothing was shown here. 

Compared to Black Panther, this sequel also falls short in its action sequences. While the bridge car chase scene and Okoye’s fight with the Talokans in Boston are major highs, the final fight scene feels crowded and rushed. An oversaturated fight scene is nothing new in Marvel (people of God, Endgame), but it’s almost uncoordinated here. None of the sequences blew my mind or sent a shockwave of adrenaline into my body. 

That being said, my biggest gripe with Black Panther: Wakanda Forever is its failure to submit to the grief side of the story it was trying to tell. After Namor attacks Wakanda and kills Queen Ramonda in the film’s second act, Shuri is ultimately left with no one. She recreates the purple heart-shaped herb and drinks its nectar to become the new Black Panther and avenge her mother. Then she goes into the spirit world where she meets none other than Eric “Killmonger” (Michael B. Jordan), her cousin, and the villain from the first film. 

Shuri being greeted in the spirit realm by Killmonger, instead of her father or mother, signals her full descent into revenge mode, the same emotion that fuelled Killmonger’s actions. Another scene that solidifies this is her decision to go with the gold-lined Black Panther suit similar to Killmonger’s, as opposed to the silver-lined T’challa-inspired suit. Despite all of this, the script refuses to let Shuri go all the way.  

For someone hellbent on avenging her mother’s death, doing a full 180 degrees and dropping her spear just because she saw her mother’s ghost feels insincere. She should’ve taken more time to contemplate which part she’d take — murderer or peacemaker — especially after all the lives she risked (and lost) to get there. 

Rushing Shuri’s grieving process to wrap the film up in a lovely peaceful bow doesn’t sit right with my spirit. 

Minor hiccups aside, Black Panther: Wakanda Forever is a brilliant film that does its best to honour the legacy of the man whose back it was built on, appease the fans and still make sure the Marvel monster machine is well fed. Major props to Angela Basset for commanding every scene she was in, Danai Gurirra for the action sequences and comedic timing, Lupita Nyong’O and Winston Duke for eating up their roles, and finally, Letitia Wright for being the new back that carries the film. 

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever isn’t perfect, but then again, can any film about grief be? I don’t think so. 

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At the time Mushin 2 Mo’Hits dropped, Don Jazzy was the most in-demand Nigerian producer — and back-up singer, if he liked you — with Wande Coal coming in as the label’s latest addition poised to continue its growing legacy of back-to-back hits. The duo ended up being infectious, and every time we heard, “It’s WC. Na who do the beat o? Don Baba J”, we knew it was going to be a banger. 

We’d all heard albums about love and romance before, but most of them were shy about sex. Sure, we’d also gotten songs about sex, shoutout to P-Square for Do Me, but on Mushin 2 Mo’Hits, Wande Coal masterfully conveyed the sexual awakening that came with falling in love. His idea of love wasn’t PG, but it wasn’t R18, either. It comfortably sat in a seductive space between “I’m in love with you” and “You make me horny.” And as a young teen going through the motions of puberty, this album was perfect for me. 

Now, 13 years after making it into Discmans and iPod playlists, Wande Coal’s magnum opus is finally available on streaming apps. Since I’ve been begging for the album at odd hours of the morning: 

It’s only fitting to revisit it for myself and the culture. 

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The Breakdown

Wande Coal kicks things off by exploring his inner Christian Grey with the album opener, I Know You Like It, and its follow-up, You Bad. Singing about making you beg for it while you scream his name, we’re introduced to an artist who can seduce you with a masterful mix of Yoruba, pidgin and unmatched vocals. These two tracks lay the groundwork for a sexy album, proving Wande was a Yoruba demon before we even knew what the term meant. 

For the compulsory song about social justice and Nigerian wahala, Wande Coal’s synth-heavy, Se Na Like This? is as poignant now as it was in 2009, especially when you realise $1 was going for ₦148. I love this song, but it’s a cruel reminder that we’re no longer knee-deep in the trenches. At this point, we’ve been submerged by it. 

We all lost our shit this year [2022] because of how much Wande Coal sounded like Michael Jackson in his collab with Olamide, Hate Me. 

But listening to his badass falsettos on Kiss Your Hands with Ikechukwu, especially around the 2:29 mark where he belts out MJ’s signature “He-he”, I feel stupid for being shocked by Hate Me. Wande Jackson has always been a thing. 

Confused, another banger on the album, finds Wande Coal ignoring all the red flags to be with the person he loves. He even goes as far as singing, “Wo l’ashewo ni e, but emi o boda,” and honestly, I can’t help but stan a king who supports sex work. 

Every Nigerian artist has that one random gospel song on their album to appease their mothers and choir instructors. Wande doesn’t disappoint, giving us two: Se Ope, which reminds me of the suffer-head “some have food” song from boarding house, and Jehovah, a song that talks about his literal journey from Mushin to Mo’Hits.

Bumper to Bumper is Wande Coal announcing he’s deep in his bag and no one can stop him. It was the first single off the album and a song that still reminds me of secondary school birthday parties, bootcut jeans and Axe body spray. Good times.

Two features that work are Bananas with Dr Sid and Who Born The Maga with Kayswitch. Bananas is the more romantic older brother of D’Prince’s Take Banana (a banger, by the way), while Who Born The Maga finds Wande confident in something more than his sex game, his talent. Random thought, but when did we decide to stop using the word, “Maga”? I don’t get it. 

It’s impossible to do a top 10 of the most iconic Nigerian love songs of all time and not mention Wande Coal’s Ololufe. While his other songs talk about love in their own way, Ololufe reveals a more vulnerable Wande Coal as he tries to reassure his lover that their love is real. It’s equal parts joyful and heartbreaking, which I now appreciate as an adult who finally understands the complexities of navigating love. 

Now It’s All Gone, which features label mate D’Prince, is the first underwhelming song on the album. It sounds a lot like Omarion’s IceBox, and not in a good way. Other forgettable tracks include That’s Wats Up and My Grind. They’re not bad songs. It’s just, they fail to hold their own when compared to the others. 

My best song on Mushin 2 Mo’Hits has to be Taboo. The production of this song is insane. But my favourite part is the casual switch from the mellow “Even if dem say na taboo” to the crowd call and response, “Ki le leyi? Ileke”. It sounds so simple, yet incredibly well thought out, making Taboo one of the best Afropop songs of all time. 

Final thoughts 

People say “way ahead of its time” loosely, but it’s like the perfect way to describe Mushin 2 Mo’Hits. From the synth-heavy production to sexy lyrics and melodies, this album has influenced everything from Wizkid’s 2011 Superstar to Fireboy DML’s 2021 hit, Peru — I’m not the only one who thought Wande was the one singing the second verse. 

Wande Coal and Don Jazzy created something special with Mushin 2 Mo’Hits. Revisiting it all these years later makes it an even more profound body of work. Wande has been and will always be the GOAT. Period. 

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Skales might be one of Afropop’s most enduring figures, but not many people know the Booty Language singer started as a gospel singer. While he may have popped up on our radars as the smooth-talking rap scene-stealer during Banky W’s Empire Mates Entertainment’s golden era, Skales grew up with a mum who sold Ron Kenolly and Don Moen cassettes from her shop in Kaduna. 

“The first non-gospel song that got my attention was Aaliyah’s Try Again,” Skales tells me during our interview. “Because of the chorus, I could pass it off as a gospel song. It inspired me to want to write my own songs.” 

Over the years, Skales, born Raoul John Njeng-Njeng, has written many hits, from Shake Body and Selese, to Temper and N2s (Nobody to Somebody). With each song, Skales has shown he’s not afraid to try new sounds, even though he says he sometimes struggles with sharing them with the world. 

But now, Skales is back with a remix to his hit song, Say You Bad (with 1Da Banton) and the deluxe version of his album, Sweet Distractions on the way. 

I caught up with Skales for an interesting conversation about his discography. This man has come a long way from sampling John 3:16 on the first song he wrote as a child.

First song you wrote

Wow! I can’t really remember the title or verse, but I know it had something like, “For God so loved the world,” because I sampled John 3:16. 

I used to listen to a lot of gospel music growing up, so it just made sense for my first attempt at music to be something gospel-related. 

The song that took the longest to make 

It has to be Shake Body. I was trying out a new sound, so I was unsure of the song. I think I recorded a different chorus and about six verses before deciding on the one that went out. Even when the song was done, I was too shy to play it for anyone else because this sound was all so new to me.

The song you wish more people listened to

I’ll say I Dey Miss You from the Sweet Distractions album which came out in February. I made the song for my wife when we were still dating and going through this period where I felt her pulling away from me. This artist, Imanse, had brought I Dey Miss You to me for a guest feature, but after I recorded it, I knew I wanted to put out my own version because I connected to it on a deeper level. I just wanted my girl to know I missed her. 

It’s one song that, when I was done, I felt really proud of myself because of how beautiful it turned out to be. 

Your surprise hit song 

There are two songs, Shaku Shaku and the original version of Temper. I was so shy after recording Shaku Shaku that I gave it to DJ Prince and became the featured artist. I did so because I thought, bad as e bad, if people don’t like it, na feature dem feature me. LOL. 

While the remix of Temper with Burna Boy is more popular in Nigeria, the original version has more global streams than the remix. I’m still shocked because I expected the remix to be a bigger streaming hit. 

Hardest feature to get

I can’t think of one. It’s all vibes, and I have a mobile studio in my car, so when I’m vibing with another artist randomly, I’m like, “Let’s make this jam.” For example, This Your Song with Davido happened because I played him the beat backstage at a show where we were booked to perform. 

I did the same thing with Wande Coal for Make Love in the Morning. We were on a jet to Yola for a show, and I was like, “Yo, man, let’s make a song.” I set up something with my studio engineer on that flight, and Wande freestyled his part while we were up in the air. 

The song you’d recommend to someone trying to get into Skales’ music

I’d play Booty Language with Sarkodie. The story behind the song is pretty random because I was hanging out with some of my friends, and I asked this chick with a big bum, “How do you say booty in your language?” 

Krisbeatz, the producer, was there, and we joked about making a song using that line. The next thing I knew, he sent over a beat, and I drove all the way from Lekki to Gbagada that day to record the song. I laugh every time I think about the origin of that song. 

By the way, Sarkodie got featured on the song by chance. We were in opposite rooms in the same hotel during the One Africa concert in London, and he heard me playing the song. He liked it, recorded a verse and sent it the next day. I’d already shot the video, but I had to do a new one with him last minute. 

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Speaking of “How do you say booty in your language?” What’s the wildest lyric you’ve come up with? 

Emergency with Patoranking and Runtown. And it’s not even a line; it’s the whole verse. I was drunk when I recorded it and didn’t hear the song again until it was time to shoot the video. That day, I was just like, “Omo, how did I come up with this?”

The line where I said, “Shey your name na Genevieve? Come over here,” got me in serious trouble because people thought I said, “Commot for here.” I don’t know how it became such a big deal. Me, that I think Genevieve Nnaji is the queen of Nollywood. I even said, “My only competition na Dangote.” Omo!

What’s the best music video you’ve made? 

It has to be the video for N2S (Nobody to Somebody). That video tells my story, and it’s special to me. 

Favourite song to perform on stage

I Dey Miss You for sure. My manager has begged me to stop, but its soulful feeling gets me every time. 

The song that makes you cringe

I have a lot, but I won’t mention their names. I’ll say they all contributed to the artist I am today. 

The song you’ve grown to love

The original version of Temper. I wasn’t sure about it. I remember Burna seeing me outside Quilox and telling me he’d like to hop on the song. I sent the song  to him, and he liked it so much that he asked if we could record another song. We made one more song, but it didn’t pop like Temper. 

Your career-defining song 

It’s annoying, but I’ll admit that my biggest song is Shake Body. People often forget I have other songs and just focus on Shake Body. But what can I do? 

Best feature so far

There’s a song on my new album, As Always, featuring Kabusa Choir. I recorded the song at first and wanted a choir on it, so my friend suggested Kabusa Choir, a “group” famous for singing that Valentine is Coming song.

I remember the guy who I thought was the choir’s lead singer came into the studio, and I was like, “Where’s the rest of the choir?” and everyone else in the studio told me he’s the only one. There’s no choir, it’s just one guy who’s capable of singing in more than 60 different voices and keys. I was blown away.

Best Skales’s song ever

Right now, my best song has to be Pants on Fire with Blaqbonez on Sweet Distractions. 

What will you tell an artist trying to achieve longevity in Nigeria’s music industry? 

Man, you just have to keep going. You can’t stop. One thing my mum used to say: “If you are good at something and you keep doing it right, it’s going to work out.” 

Another thing, never settle. 

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Davido is an indisputable force when it comes to Nigerian music today. Since making a major splash in 2011 with the explosive Naeto C-assisted hit, Back When, he has cemented himself as a universal leader of new school Afrobeats, paving the way for a new generation, all while churning out back-to-back hits. 

His last album, the 2020 closer, A Better Time, was responsible for the protest anthem, Fem, club bangers like The Best with Mayourkun and La La with Ckay, and international collaborations with Nas, Nicki Minaj and Lil Baby. His guest features have also made songs like Adekunle Gold’s High and Young Jonn’s Dada bigger hits than they would’ve been without him. 

With over ten years in the game and multiple hits to his name, it’s still shocking that Davido has released only three albums: 2012’s Omo Baba Olowo: The Genesis; 2019’s A Good Time; and A Better Time. But to be fair, it’s not that shocking, because Nigerian artists avoid albums like a biblical plague. 

Following the massive success of Wizkid’s 2011 debut album, Superstar, 2012 was immediately set aside as the year for another hotly anticipated debut, this time, Davido’s. The anticipation was warranted, though. At the time, Davido had already put out Back When, taken over clubs with Dami Duro and killed his guest feature on Saucekid’s Carolina. 

Playing into the image the public had given him (and, to be fair, his reality), Davido named his 17-track debut album, Omo Baba Olowo: The Genesis, which means, “The child of a wealthy father.” But fans were less than thrilled with this mid body of work when the album eventually dropped. 

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To mark the album’s 10th anniversary this week, I’ve decided to revisit Davido’s musical firstborn to figure out what worked, what flopped and how it foretold the type of musician Davido is today. 

The Breakdown

If there’s one thing we know now, Davido is not one to back down from a fight or downplay his worth. The opening track and one of the album’s best songs, All Of You, finds him with the biggest shoulder pads you can find, singing about how he’s the best in the game. A bold statement for a 19-year-old dropping his first album. 

For an album about being born into wealth, lyrics like “Back when I was broke yo” sound pretentious AF when Davido sings them on Back When. This doesn’t mean the song doesn’t slap, though, because it does. The first sign of a crack in the album comes up on New Skul Tinz with B-Red and Sina Rambo. Here, we find Davido and his crew trying and failing woefully to convince us they’re the next big thing. 

The next five songs — except for Ekuro — Video, Down, No Visa with Sina Rambo and Enter The Centre with B-Red, can only be described as noise with a sprinkle of Davido’s vocals (if we can call it that). These roughly-produced songs drown out his voice and show one of his biggest flaws at the time, weak songwriting.

Ekuro is, however, a big moment for Davido to shine as he holds his own, singing about love — the song lowkey feels like the less than perfect older sibling to songs like Jowo, 1 Milli and Assurance. 

With Davido currently standing as one of the kings of features, it’s surprising to see his album had five features from outside his label: Back When with Naeto C, Dollars In The Bank with Kay Switch, Feel Alright with Ice Prince, For You with 2Baba and Bless Me with May D. Feel Alright, Back When and Bless Me are tolerable, Dollars In The Bank fall flat because of its weak production, while For You fails to hit the mark for a song that has Davido and 2Baba. 

Davido tries to hit high notes on Sade, but there’s only so much autotune can do. Thankfully, his vocals on songs like Stand Strong work as evidence that in this life, you have to try and try until you succeed. The album is rounded up with the twerk anthem Gbon Gbon, where Davido exchanges actual lyrics for an unknown language (or maybe it’s just gibberish). 

Final Thoughts

Debut albums are either the best or worst projects on an artist’s discography. Thankfully, for Davido, it’s the latter. Omo Baba Olowo: The Genesis was wild back then, and going back ten years later doesn’t make it any better. One thing it does, though, is show us just how much Davido has grown as an artist and collaborator. A feat not many of his colleagues can boast of. 

To get the hit-making Davido we have today, we needed to experience the cringe Davido we had on this album. I’m grateful for that because it’s all about the journey in the end, and Davido’s has been nothing short of remarkable. 

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We will remember 2020 for many things: a scary pandemic, a global shutdown in response to said pandemic, the rise and fall of the Houseparty app and, for music lovers, the surprise takeover of Omah Lay. 

Armed with kickass melodies, relaxing mid-tempo production and romantic declarations like, “You don burst my eyeglass”, Omah Lay quickly became the year’s breakout artist. And in the same year big shots like Wizkid, Davido, Burna Boy, Tiwa Savage and Olamide all dropped well-received albums, Omah Lay somehow managed to remain a major fixture in the musical conversation. 

His debut EP, Get Layd, was a significant departure from what Nigerians were used to at the time. Carefully blending R&B and Afropop, Omah Lay wasn’t singing about shutting the club down or living his best life. Instead, he delved into honest conversations about love and sex. And with everyone stuck at home trying to figure life out, the EP felt like the comfort music we needed at the time. A classic case of the right time and place. 

Unlike most of the habits we picked up during the pandemic (Is anyone still baking Banana bread every day?), Omah Lay’s music is one thing we haven’t been able to shake off. His second EP, What Have We Done, gave us the reflective Godly and Can’t Relate, as well as a fitting remix to Damn alongside 6LACK. Features with Olamide and Ajebo Hustlers followed, further cementing his position as a hitmaker. 

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In all of this, Omah Lay has maintained a narrative of longing. He’s either longing for love on songs like Bad Influence, for understanding on songs like Can’t Relate, reciprocated feelings on Attention, closure on Understand or peace of mind on Godly. 

Can Omah Lay maintain this emo boy narrative with the world back on the dancefloor? But most importantly, will it slap like it did two years ago? 

The Breakdown 

Omah Lay sets the stage with the album’s opening tracks, Recognize and I, in which he tries to convince his listeners he’s destined for greatness (although a part of me feels he’s trying to convince himself). The introspective tracks are followed by the sex-driven Bend You and the early single, Woman. On the Blaqbonez-esque Bend You, Omah Lay gets pornhub-level graphic, talking about all the ways he could make his girl “shake like say she get epilepsy”. While Woman also involves some backbreaking, there’s a promise of romance and a possible pregnancy since he has no plan of pulling out. 

EmoLay (Emotional Omah Lay, get it?) makes a comeback to talk about using alcohol to escape imposter syndrome and loneliness on I’m A Mess, before admitting to another escapist vice, marijuana, on the reflective Temptation. He, however, finds himself, and some solace, on Never Forget and Safe Haven. 

We finally get to vibe on Soso and How To Luv, which has a sprinkle of amapiano and lyrics that shout Kcee out for singing Limpopo. Omah Lay calls on Tay Iwar to assist him to the finish line with Tell Everybody, a song that successfully straddles the line between seduction and emotional yearnings. It might not get the love it deserves now, but best believe Tell Everybody is bound to be a fave after several listens. 

After an emotional rollercoaster, Purple Song closes the 14-track album that still ends up with a run time of less than 40 minutes. It feels right to end this way as Omah Lay sings about not letting his love go no matter what. While the song sounds like an ode to a love interest on first listen, it’s better to picture it as Omah Lay’s love letter to music. 

Final Thoughts 

Omah Lay has always been honest with his music, but Boy Alone finds the Port Harcourt native digging deeper than he’s ever done before. His ability to create melodies and laidback music while addressing heartbreak, longing and loss sets him apart from most of his peers today. 

While the production feels monotonous and makes the album sound like one long song sometimes, Omah Lay’s lyrics get the MVP title for deftly sharing stories that feel authentic to who he is. On Boy Alone, nothing feels contrived or made up. You can vibe all you want, but last last, you’ll listen to Omah Lay’s story. 

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Burna Boy has never been afraid to step out of his comfort zone,  as long as it’s on his terms. He’s rapped at lightning speed alongside Lily Allen on Heaven’s Gate, jumped on the amapiano craze with the Yaba Buluku remix and led a choir on Twice as Tall standout, Bank On It. 

So it didn’t come as a surprise when, during his history-making performance at Madison Square Garden earlier this year, he premiered Last Last, a song that showed a different side of Burna, inspired by heartbreak and Toni Braxton.

Taking a break from vibrant club bangers, politically conscious anthems and ego-fueled hits, Burna Boy leaned into his vulnerability with Last Last, shedding off the initial gra gra that has rightfully earned him the African Giant title. And just like that, he set the tone for the rollercoaster that is Love, Damini, his most personal album yet. 

Ten years after breaking out with Like to Party, Burna Boy is no longer an outsider. Within this period, he overcame record label drama, crossed the line from underrated to recognised, sold-out shows worldwide, won a Grammy and became one of Nigeria’s biggest musical exports. 

For an artist whose last three albums served as a response to haters: Outside was to prove he deserved to be part of the conversation; African Giant was an obvious response to the Coachella incident; and Twice as Tall was a comeback from being left out of the Grammy conversation, I was intrigued to find out just who Burna would be responding to this time around. 

On Love, Damini, we find Burna Boy talking to himself. With this album, he’s asking tough questions and attempting to answer them as honestly as he can. The boisterous singer finally holds himself accountable (but not enough. We haven’t forgotten the recent shooting) as he swings between invincibility and vulnerability. 

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The Breakdown

Burna kicks things off with Glory, telling us he’s doing the best he can while leaning into the faux-Grammy-bait Pan Africanism he’s previously been accused of. On the mid-tempo, Jagele and Vanilla, Burna reminds us of the sweet melody and easy rhymes that made On the Low an inescapable hit in 2019. These songs, alongside the Popcaan feature, Toni-Ann Singh will cause some serious waist whining competitions at the clubs.

Not one to hold back on the features, Burna Boy teams up with J.Hus for the chill, yet paranoid, Cloak and Dagger. It’s not bad, but it’s not a standout. The same could almost be said for For My Hand, which has Ed Sheeran wearing his Afrobeats plaid shirt one more time. 

Other international collabs just work. J.Balvin flows surprisingly well on Rollercoaster, Blxst and Kehlani eat up the infectious Solid, while Khalid sings his ass off on Wild Dreams. 

Burna Boy shows he’s just as obsessed with Squid Game, TikTok and Victony (all at once) like the rest of us, with the party-starting Different Size, a major standout on this album, partly because it feels oddly familiar. 

Social justice Burna also comes out on Whiskey, where he hammers on the soot situation in Port Harcourt and its effect on the ordinary people who live there. And still on his “I’m a man of the people” shit, Burna also weaves a compelling story about our connection through struggles on the rousing,  Common Person. 

But in the midst of all these, Love, Damini truly shines when Burna gets raw and with himself. Despite the dance beat, he wonders if anything he does will ever be enough on It’s Plenty. He also shifts focus to coming out of a bad place with How Bad Could It Be, a song that marks a major vocal and lyrical departure from the Burna Boy we’ve gotten used to. 

On the album’s titular track, which serves as its outro, Burna Boy is full of regrets: not listening to his sister, not reaching out to the people in his life and his infamous anger issues. You’ll be forgiven for being tempted to think the song should have been longer and — possibly the album opener.

Final Thoughts

Love, Damini feels very much like a Burna Boy album, but at the same time, there’s something… different. It shows major growth in Burna’s artistry, as we can finally see who he is as an artist and individual who’s no longer necessarily trying to prove himself. 

Love, Damini may not be as much of a compilation of bangers like African Giant or as historic as Outside, but it may just be Burna Boy at his most honest — on a journey to (finally) be at peace with himself. 

ALSO READ: Ranked: Top 15 Burna Boy Songs of All Time, According to Album Release

Now, with Fireboy’s position in the afropop scene solidified, Olamide has come through with a new EP, 999, which, like his last body of work, seems to be less about him and more about the rising stars he’s assembled.

On the 9-track project, Olamide introduces his fans to a new generation of rap talent, two of which he simply discovered on his Instagram Explore Page (Sosa-E and Jackmillz on the fantastic “Dancing With The Devil”).

The only other big-name star on 999 is Olamide’s frequent collaborator, Phyno, who is given a chance to flex alongside his gifted new signees, Rhatti and Cheque on the standout “Warlords”.

The most exciting new discovery, however, is Jayboi, who Olamide met at a hotel in Abeokuta. After freestyling for hours, he earned himself a spot on the EP, and he quickly shows why on the sexually-charged “Mojo”.

Bolstered by eclectic production work from Pheelz, Cracker Mallo and more, 999 solidly tackles themes around fame (“Rich & Famous”), generational wealth (“Billion Talk) and hustling (“No Time”).

While a lot of the songs on the EP are really impressive, the track that feels destined to be the biggest is “Wonma”, a radio-friendly banger that allows Olamide to reach his one-hit-every-other-month quota.

All in all, 999 is a solid and essential project from Olamide — one that serves double duty, both reminding us of his versatility as a rapper and his penchant for putting people on.

Rating: 7.5/10

With the start of this brand new decade, the versatile star looks to be on a mission to redefine himself, and he accomplishes that with his strongest and most cohesive body of work to date, Blackmagic Version 3.0 (Starving Artist).

On the 13-track project, BlackMagic shows off his impressive range, both as a performer and a writer. He seamlessly alternates genres, sings rather beautifully, raps with gusto and thoughtfully tackles a bunch of complex themes. 

More vulnerable and introspective than most Nigerian artists tend to be, BlackMagic raps about navigating depression (“Blue”), fighting for his sanity amidst relentless scrutiny (“Koole”) and our flawed government (“Ponmo”)

Like with any good body of work, BlackMagic isn’t the only reason this project works so well. The impeccable production work from Xela, Bond, Ikon and Spax help elevate his words, ensuring that the album never feels boring or repetitive.

On the album’s Tems-assisted opener. “Soon”, BlackMagic takes out time to apologise for taking so long to release the project, saying he was “chasing inspiration”. Considering the outstanding outcome, it’s safe to say that the wait was more than worth it. 

Listen to Blackmagic Version 3.0 (Starving Artist):

While he currently commands the fastest-growing followership the Nigerian music industry has seen in recent years, it wasn’t exactly clear how well a body of work would have been received. Naira Marley probably realised that and decided to test the waters first, which resulted in the release of his new EP, Lord of Lamba.

The 6-track project doesn’t even attempt to tackle any weighty themes, but that hardly comes as a surprise. In fact, most of the lyrics lean into the misogyny of his biggest hits — specifically his penchant for slut-shaming. In his defence, however, his problematic nature has always been part of his shtick.

As for the quality of the songs on the EP, they all have the same party-starting energy of the singles that came before them. Sonically, Naira Marley shows no interest in messing with a good thing, as he sticks to his tried-and-tested formula — from his signature delivery to the infectious beats.

Granted, the EP begins to feel a little repetitive at some point — considering the fact that Naira Marley doesn’t show much of his range — but the songs are all interesting enough to hold your attention. “Yanyanyan” is the one song that really manages to stand out, and that’s thanks to Mayorkun’s solid guest work.

While this EP probably won’t break records, win any awards or stand the test of time, it’s enough to confirm that Naira Marley is a hit-maker of epic proportions. So, if you thought he was just a fad destined to be overshadowed by the next shiny new star, we hate to break it to you: Naira Marley is here to stay,

Listen to Lord of Lamba below:

On the 12-track project, the third entry into their Palmwine Music series, Ghost and Tec surround themselves with a jaw-dropping selection of featured acts — from big-name players like Burna Boy to fast-rising phenoms like Buju — but they are very much the stars of the show.

Throughout the album, the duo mostly rap about love and sex — tackling topics like fleeting romances (“Different Case”) and undeniable chemistry (“Vibrations”). In between that, they still find time to brag about their skill (“Alariwo”) and call out liars (“Tales By Moonlight”).

Most of the project’s guest acts already appeared on at least one of the last two Palmwine Music releases, so it comes as no surprise that the chemistry is still pretty palpable. BOJ and Tomi Thomas, especially, deliver standout hooks on “Different Case” and “Vibrations” respectively.

The Palmwine Express is another outstanding project from Show Dem Camp — one that, like its predecessors, soars thanks to fantastic production work (entirely handled by Spax), strong features and the undeniable chemistry between Ghost (the project’s MVP) and Tec.

Listen to The Palmwine Express below: