The critic’s will be done on earth, his reward is in heaven. If he be like Greg Tate – one of several forbearers I’ve discovered on this journey – he inspires a generation of like-minds. He evokes the recognition of criticism as art in the mind of a future Pulitzer-winning writer. A confrère posits it a fool’s errand writing on art. I don’t dispute it. But I don’t tell him my whys.
For me, critiques – and reviews – are an act of obeisance. I write about art because I read the words of those who wrote about art, marvelled at their invincibility, and then struggled with their humanity. It is a subjection to whatever higher power directed them. Shuttling from Pulse to FilterFree, NATIVE, YouTube, Fandom, and CBR, I lived in their flesh. It was mostly welcoming; an out-of-body experience with no astral projection. Little has changed in that regard.
The first time I read a Dennis Ade Peter One-Listen Review, I hop-skipped between those extremes (One-listen reviews are exactly what they read like, a review of a piece of audio media based on a lone listen). I was a fan of some of his other articles, including critiques. These made me a stan. There’s something inhuman about drawing so much from a single listen with no pauses or rewinds. It’s not as technical as fully fleshed critiques, but when done right, it can be as captivating. And somewhere in my heart of hearts, I wanted to do just that.
Two weeks ago, I did – sort of. I found a way to execute one for Ayra Starr’s sophomore project, The Year I Turned 21. School, time, and one chance had prevented me from listening for most of June, but with the prospect of a fifteen-hour-plus journey, came an opportunity to listen. It’s Ayra, after all; some artists demand you savour.
Ready, set, Dion.
In not-so-typical one-listen fashion, there were no skips, rewinds, fast-forwards but pauses. Certain reactions have also been edited for ‘language’ sake. All reactions were written in real-time.
Birds Sing of Money
London creates masterful soundscapes. I can’t dispute that. She’s channelling the Gangster energy with lyricism. The bridge was needed but the arrangement, though. I have questions. Definitely locked in.
Goodbye (Warm Up) (feat. Asake)
Odd transition to this song reminds me of Nahamciaga EP . Low pitch affected my reception of the first verse. The looped segment on this track feels like a prelude to something more. Asake’s verse sits well. Why then, were Twitter folks hating? “O baby plea-e-ese” Loved the drums on this. Sounds off as track 2, to be honest. A tracklisting issue, perhaps?
Commas
Was the single always this good or is the album version better? And why is this happening with so many projects? Strings in the background are more audible here. The two-key piano motif lands better too. Ayra can sing, man. That “Inside life” segment. Come on!
Woman Commando (feat. Anitta, Coco Jones)
That is how you segue on an album! Same team as Rave and Roses, maybe? (Divine to either Hold Me or Love and Attention). I wasn’t expecting Ragee’s tag. A commanding display in the first verse; sounds believable too. Mavins songwriters love to slip a 90s or 2000s pop culture reference in. “Aghahowa”, that’s ball. Coco’s verse is my favourite here. I rock with the love interest angle and that pitch climb at the end.
Control
Ayra is a 21-year-old singing with the maturity of a 29-year-old. This is noticeably the first song where she takes on love. Her approach here is simple; she’s open and she wants him to lead. The guitar riffs on this are gorgeous. Beautiful interpolation of Hips Don’t Lie. (Lowkey, can Shakira whyne like Ayra?) The intro and outro make it sound like a performance at a club, tying into the track just right. I want a video for this one.
Lagos Love Story
We’re in ìṣekúṣe territory, my niccas! Just look at the line-up. Making babies + sativa + the beach + that Lagos-pidgin (“Shey na this one una dey enjoy“) = A proper tail-end Gen Z cocktail. It’s the recipe for disaster not called ABH Love. This is the best chorus so far. There’s a minor folk influence in the song’s structure. Okay, I wasn’t expecting those log drums.
Rhythm & Blues
Again, why do the singles sound better on here? (P.S Should check out whoever produced this. They good pieces!) I just might understand why Commas did better commercially. Rhythm and Blues doesn’t have a standout moment. While the writing is considerably better here, Commas has the “Inside Life” section and the appeal of addressing haters. Nigerians love a good hustle song. I just hope folks give this song another try.
21
My, have I waited for this song. My oh my! It’s an Ayra ballad. It’s the lost art of emotional explosions over tightly-knit lyricism. It’s one of those songs I must get a live performance of. The second verse might be the best on this tape; a short, vulnerable journey of her life, so far. ‘Cause truly, it doesn’t get better than 21. The whispers of “Not 22” as the song closes tell another story of their own, more than living in the moment. There is power in the tongue and I want what they had in the writing sessions for this.
Last Heartbreak Song
Ayra’s vocal strength is talked about a lot, rightly. Modulation at its best. My gripe with this song is how cliche the lyrics are. Almost every line in the chorus and first verse has been used in some way elsewhere. Don’t do that nau. Giveon’s voice, man. He sounds tough to mix and equalise. This was ……. underwhelming, I guess.
Bad Vibes
For a 21-year-old, Ayra sings quite a lot about enemies and bad energy. It’s fitting for the not-so-privileged divide of her generation; the ọmọ ologos, Pablos, and Arikes. Just doesn’t translate for the mini-skirt, Doc Martens and ear-muff-wearing end.
Seyi Vibez, son of Amdallah, the beauty you are! His technique of ending in homophones but letting them breathe out before the next bar is such a good one. Again, this song has what Rhythm & Blues didn’t. Moments! That last part with Ayra and Seyi harmonising for the outro. That’s muzika!
Ọrùn
(Again) I must restate that Ayra can SING and Lauda is a madman. She’s taking us to church. And it’s not forced. This girl doesn’t sound 21 oh. (I hear Tiwa Savage). Oh to have been present at the recording session for this track. Ọrùn is a bittersweet song. She’s accepting her place in history, hinting at the pain that was and is.
Jazzy’s Song
Guitar strums on an intro can not go wrong, people. Ask Sia and David Guetta. This is a killer interpolation. Not a word but you can already visualise folks whistling along at a party. It’s a feel-good song. Perfect for night outings or that specific point in a DJ’s set before the climax. Here, log drums take the backseat. Am I tripping or is there an interpolation of Pluto (Remember You) by DJ Clock and Beatenburg on this?
Now, to the most ‘Insane, right?’ fact about the track. It’s titled Jazzy’s Song but produced by Priime. Talk about declaring the heirs.
1942
The last time I heard such a drum sequence was on Mr. Morale and the Big Steppers. Ayra has sung a good deal about alcohol on this tape. Also, the deeper you go, the more her youth is apparent. Pools, bottles, duffle, ‘inna the’. She definitely heard Solid Star and Wande sing, growing up. 1942 is reflective, much like 21. But it’s the sort of reflection that happens in the company of others. Zoning out. Not alone but lonely.
The Kids Are Alright
Well, that’s a gut punch. Ọlọ́run ma pèsè yín, Mama Ayra. And we all hope you’re watching, Daddy Oyinkan. Your girl is doing well. She’s put her mortality on display. Obrigado.
(Yes, I skipped reviewing Santa. Shoutout to Rvssian, though)
Thoughts in Parting
I understand why The Year I Turned 21 is Album of The Year for many. It’s relatable on many levels – keys into the Gen Z experience – that artists ignore for lack of nuisance. This, it does, by offering various aspects of the experience, with love as a focal point. Ayra’s voice is also a standout here. She takes a back seat on some songs, opting for soft altos and belts out on others, a breath of fresh air in an industry that’s gotten so comfortable with skill issues.( As I type this, I long to listen to 21 again) As far as writing goes, there appears to be a balance between poetic, sentimental, long-winding lines and Afrobeats staple, lamba. I would need more than a few more listens to be sure. The tracklisting is questionable at some points but not to the extent of being jarring. Production on this is quite the treat, and I look forward to my re-listens for that aspect. If there’s one thing I’m sure of, it’s that Ayra’s position as a leader of the pack is unquestionable with The Year I Turned 21. 19 & Dangerous was a statement. This is a whole-ass declaration.
Episode 1
