Wale in the Wild: Zinoleesky, Lagos & street-pop’s gospel of hope
An artist for Lagos' streets, made by Lagos' streets.
In his new column for The NATIVE, ‘Wale in the Wild’, culture writer Wale Oloworekende digs into the boisterous tapestry of Nigerian pop, offering a series of contextualised and personalised essays on the relationship between the music, its points of origin and how it all ties together into the Nigerian experience. This inaugural essay takes a personal look at the rise and rise of Zinoleesky, through the lens of society, genius lyricism and personal experiences.
The truth is that there are very few things that I hold as sacred as the court of music I keep with my friends these days. I think that what this means more than anything is that, on the most bleary days, one by one, from places that are most unlike each other, we emerge at each other’s houses and, sometimes, we speak on the troubles that keep us awake at night; other times these conversations are had over a glass of wine or whatever can numb the pain enough to allow the words to form in our throats. But most importantly, on the days when talking is too strenuous or the weight of words threatens to break our backs, we play music.
One thing I have noticed about the music that we spin is its consistent ability to leave us enthralled. I have yet to see a problem, with the notable exception of death and its many variants, that music hasn’t seen us through or at least started us on a path to feeling better. Even with death, all we ask is that the music goes high enough, the liquor stays flowing longer than usual, and we can start to imagine a way out of any painful labyrinth.
In discussion, my friends and I have often playfully tried to localise where things started–or at least appear–to go awry in our generation, and, being frank, many of us point to the gloom of 2020 as a portent of sorts. 2020 was a wild and anxious year in many respects. Almost as soon as we attuned ourselves to the social distancing and stay-at-home regimen of the COVID-19 pandemic, we were being forced to pour ourselves out into the streets to protest a rogue institution that seemed fixated with the forcible neutering of young black bodies. Many times in 2020, it was hard to take a look over your shoulder and not feel a hovering sense of sadness.
That said, here is another fact about 2020 that I think you should know: In the first two weeks of that year, I compiled a scatter-brained list of artists to watch out for in the year for a nice outlet I used to work for and I put Zinoleesky on the list.
By the time 2020 was biding its final farewell, Zinoleesky was on his way to music superstardom, off the bank of a string of hit songs that distilled his brand of cool, brooding music into a clarion call for a generation facing its toughest moment, while sneaking in tidbits of his ghetto gospel. From “Ma Pariwo” to “Kilofese,” Zinoleesky seemed to be presciently aware of what the zeitgeist needed to be saying at any particular time he released new music.
Since then, Zinoleesky has become an immutable part of the Afropop galaxy, as he has moved from songs like “Naira Marley” to “Gone Far” to “Blessings.” I think it is impossible to talk about the narrative of Zinoleesky’s career without turning our gaze on who he is and where he came from. Many times in the last 18 months or so, I have wondered about the specific anecdotes that line his music and the all-too-casual elegance with which he has leaned into his role as the de-facto voice of a generation of ghetto kids. I imagine that it is a hard task to be Zinoleesky, to make the crux of your art inspiring people that many others would rather not see. But by any estimation, there are roles that become you and there are roles that you become when there are no outlets to tell the specific stories that you want to tell.
*****
At this specific moment, there is no sub-genre that waters Nigerian pop’s ever-evolving cast of slangs, lingo, and euphemisms with the regularity that street-pop does. What this means is that you can barely walk down any road in this country and not hear Mohbad tell you of how he wakes up at 4:30am to get to whatever activity might put some food on his table for the day, or see Bella Shmurda perform “Cash App,” with all the controversy that the track invites, to 20,000 people who are screaming it back word-for-word at the 02, while lost in the madcap delirium that I must imagine follows the performance of such a track in a huge sea of people coming together to bathe in the glow of music.
I guess what I’m trying to say is that street-pop is here to stay and I know this because it has crossed over into the places that I would never have seen it going into even five years ago. But if you were paying attention as far back as 2019, it might have been easy to at least not be surprised by this current trajectory of street pop. Every other week in the third quarter of 2019, we’d wake up to a new viral video from a bunch of street rappers domiciled in Agege, rapping about the survivalist conditions of life in the place that they call home.
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. (@zinoleesky)The responses to these videos broadly fell into two categories: first, there were those whose direct lived experiences were referenced in those freestyles whose fire emoji comments littered the comment sections of those rising rappers, egging them on with every fibre of their being; then there were those who looked upon this rising tide with bemusement, unsure what to make of these rappers who were really Fuji-inspired singers at heart.
Of all the rappers we saw on our phone screens from Agege in 2019, Zinoleesky was the one who seemed most uncomfortable with the strictures of rap as a medium, the one more likely to break into an intuitive spurt of melody to bookend his raps that resembled the readings of a poet in residence. I think that the dominant thought about Zinoleesky, about Agege, about street-pop in general at that point, was that this too shall pass. That whatever was being done on that side of town would eventually tide over and Nigerian pop would continue its unstoppable rise to international ubiquity with street pop as nothing but a side note of that trajectory. The point I’m trying to make is that Zinoleesky is of people that are dreamers, eternally optimistic, forever building, and ready to burst at the seams, regardless of whatever institutional barrier is stacked against them.
I have spent countless hours over the last two years considering what might be Zinoleesky’s greatest skill, and I have come to the conclusion that it is in how he put his own distinct interpretation on feelings of hopelessness while finding a way to localize joy in the midst of all that despair. There is something to be said about someone that gives a voice to this instinct of the oppressed, but it is another thing to urge the same people to find a way to look past all the worries in their life and keep at their life with any sort of joy.
One time last year, I was in Computer Village and I must assume that my audience knows that Computer Village, functioning as a microcosm of Lagos, is not the most optimistic of places, but late in the afternoon “Gone Far” came on in the section of the market where I was hiding away from a heavy downpour and men who may or may not be looking to pick pockets stopped for a second to acknowledge the genius of Zino while doing their best impression of smiles while singing the line “more money, more respect” heartily. And I suppose this says something about the origin of the music that originally inspired Zinoleesky and his incredible ability to propel its aura forward. Last year during a conversation in an almost empty car lot in Ikoyi, the singer sheepishly admitted to me that the music of icons like Pasuma and Saheed Osupa were some of the biggest inspiration on his life. If truth be told, in a moment when Nigerian pop is moving beyond the physical locale of its origin to touch an almost unquantifiable audience, Zinoleesky’s voice is more important than ever. It’s the voice of Lagos, singing the music that keeps us alive and vitalizes us.
*****
One time in between smoking whatever remained of a blunt and sipping some bacardi, one of my friends described Zinoleesky’s “Naira Marley” as a breathtaking work of poetry. He’s right. There’s something achingly expressive about the breath, cadence, and lines that Zinoleesky employed in that song. Even the most cynical of us must admit that there’s something redemptive about a mother’s love. I know this because many times my mother’s love has pulled me back from whatever gapping abyss has threatened to swallow me whole. Half of the time when we’re listening to Zinoleesky play, I must admit to you that we’re high as shit. I must also tell you that Nigeria is after our lives in many ways that we cannot often describe, but the truth is that we remain present, alive, warm bodies fighting for each other as best as we can because all we have is the music and one another.
I have grown to be accustomed to the Nigerian institution being a supreme bully that will come after anybody that doesn’t fit their linear narratives about how one should present themselves so I was not mighty surprised when officers of the NDLEA invaded the living space of Zinoleesky and members of Marlian music. Most of that night, while doing whatever it is to numb the pain of the previous day, all I can feel is an abiding sense of disconsolation. I would be a hypocrite if I say there’s anything revolutionary about Zinoleesky being thrown in jail by the Nigerian institution, but there is a silent message I assume in who was invaded and how overwhelmingly quiet the Internet space appeared; how there was a very strong possibility that we could just move on as though nothing happened.
It is a humid March night and Zinoleesky is bantering on stage at Obafemi Awolowo University’s amphitheater. For those who don’t know, there is defiance baked into the very fiber of OAU, and it seemed almost like an act of divinity that Zinoleesky’s first public performance post-NDLEA drama should come there. Performing to an overly-euphoric set of listeners, Zinoleesky instructs the DJ to play “Blessings,” his smash hit with producer, Niphkeys, and the words, “Don’t know why I’m always thinking about tomorrow,” float perfectly into the air against the cascading backdrop of more than six thousand people shouting the words back.
If truth be told, me and my niggas are not perfect, we make mistakes upon mistakes, till we happen on whatever decisions and results we can live with. But we live in the essence of music, we pray at the altar of Zinoleesky and all the other radiant children of Nigerian pop. I want to believe that music is the weapon now more than anything, music is the weapon for our continued existence, especially when we are high and need something to line our mouths.
ICYMI: BELLA SHMURDA IS THE VOICE OF THE STREETS
Luwa.Mp4 Releases Riotous Debut Album, ‘punKstA*’
Across the album’s 12 tracks, Luwa.Mp4 continues his fiery exploration and fusion of genres like Punk Rock,...
Rising singer and rapper Luwa.Mp4 has released his debut album titled ‘punKstA*.’ The underground star who has been on a release spree all year long, announced the imminent arrival of his debut only a couple of days ago with a cryptic trailer video and an Instagram caption that simply read ‘PUNKSTA* MONDAY.’
Before the arrival of ‘punKstA*,’ the rising fusion star had been showcasing his diligence and talent with a consistent output that has seen him put out over a dozen songs since the start of the year. A string of singles led to a 6-pack titled ‘lore skooL,’ while a deluxe version that housed 5 new songs came just a month later.
His debut album’s lead single, “pUNK FANTASY,” arrived in late July, setting the stage for what could prove to be a pivotal moment in the underground star’s burgeoning career.
Across the album’s 12 tracks, the eclectic singer continues his fiery exploration and fusion of genres like Punk Rock, Afropop, Hyperpop, and Rap into something uniquely different. Tracks like “Pure Water,” which was previously teased on Cruel Santino’s Subaru Live Stream, the abrasive, Tecno-influenced “pROMISED NEVERLAND,” and the more laidback “pEEp MY RIDE” put on display the sort of varied, autotune-soaked approach that has set him apart and helped carve a growing niche.
While Luwa decided to go solo on his debut, credited as the only recording artist, the album was brought to life by a cast of talented producers like frequent collaborator TOPSY, Emyboi, JTRN, 3CB, FVKK.ANDI and Jeremy Cartier.
Listen to ‘punKstA*,’ here.
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Shekhinah Returns With Surprise Album, ‘Less Trouble’
The South African R&B star is at her most assertive on her first album in four years.
South African R&B and Pop singer Shekhinah has released a new surprise album titled ‘Less Trouble.’ The Durban star, who had been quiet for most of the year, took to social media shortly before midnight to share the new album’s cover, synopsis, and tracklist, simply stating, ‘If you’re seeing this my album LESS TROUBLE is out now at Midnight,’ in an Instagram caption.
The soulful singer first began teasing ‘Less Trouble,’ her first album in over four years, about a year ago when she released its lead single “Risk,” a bouncy Afropop-inspired collab with Ghanaian star MOLIY. A few months after the release of “Risk,” she put out “Steady,” a dreamy pop number that suggested that something bigger was on the horizon. But then it was largely radio silence about a project until its surprise arrival at midnight.
If 2021’s ‘Trouble In Paradise’ represented a coming-of-age for Shekhinah, subsisting some of the dreamy, youthful exuberance of her debut album for more measured musings on themes like heartbreak and grief, ‘Less Trouble’ finds her at her most assertive, writing and singing with the acuity of someone who is grown, decisive and discerning. The delicate opener “Break Up Season” sets the tone for the rest of the album as she shows little tolerance for shady behaviour and toxic patterns.
Other standout cuts on the album like “Bare Minimum,” a sombre collab with fellow South African award-winning singer lordkez, the ethereal, in-your-face interlude “New Casanova,” and the percussive “What Are We,” where Shekhinah contemplates the nature of a relationship but ultimately demands all or nothing, all drive home a part of the album’s synopsis, which reads ‘A BOOK ON MORE HEARTBREAK BUT LESS HEARTACHE.’
Shekhinah invites a couple of new collaborators on ‘Less Trouble,’ featuring the aforementioned MOLIY and lordkez as well as multi-instrumentalist Mars Baby and Young Stunna across the album’s 11 tracks. Mpilo Shabangu handled the majority of the album’s production, while other producers like Michael Morare, her longtime collaborator, Mthintheki Mzizi, and Vuyo also contributed to the album.
Listen to ‘Less Trouble’ here.
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The NATIVE’s First Impressions Of Amaarae’s ‘Black Star’
‘Black Star’ marks another evolutionary arc for Amaarae, and The NATIVE team offer our thoughts after a...
Change has always been a constant theme in any discussion about the career of Ghanaian-American star, Amaarae. Since she emerged as a singular voice in the late 2010s, she has evolved from a sirenic Afropop-adjacent singer into a Punk-Pop firestarter with minimal fuss. ‘Fountain Baby,’ her 2023 sophomore album, was a sweeping departure from the lilting melodies and shapeshifing cadences of the hypnotic ‘The Angel You Don’t Know,’ emphasizing her commitment to charting new courses with her music.
In the lead-up to her new album, ‘Black Star,’ she has wholly embraced a Pop aesthetic and sheen that was reflected on the album’s promotional singles, “S.M.O.” and “Girlie-Pop!.” Now that the album has arrived, the singer has advised listeners not to go in expecting a continuation of the soundscape on ‘Fountain Baby.’ As keen followers of Amaarae’s career from its start, we are sure that ‘Black Star’ marks another evolutionary arc for her, and we offer our thoughts after a few listens.
WHAT WERE YOUR EXPECTATIONS OF AMAARAE GOING INTO THIS ALBUM?
Kemnachi: I had zero doubts that she would impress me again. Amaarae always comes correct. She is audacious with her choices, taking creative risks most artists would not dare to imagine, and somehow rendering them seamless, deliberate, and effortless. Her music has a way of enveloping me: it’s fluid, slightly dangerous, and yet irresistibly sensual. Every project feels like an immersive world she has curated down to the finest detail. With ‘Black Star,’ I knew it was not going to be a mere collection of songs but another meticulously constructed realm.
Bamise: I expected something fun, genre-bending, and sonically diverse in the fashion that Amaarae’s music typically is. I may have taken the album title a bit too literally, though, because listening made me realise I had an eye out for some Pan-African statements or something to spark discourse on African identity, but I didn’t quite catch any of that.
Boluwatife: Amaarae has largely delivered throughout her career, so I knew she was going to come correct again. She’s one of those forward-thinking artists who take the kind of risks most others wouldn’t, but she always manages to make it work. She’s proven to be a musical omnivore who constantly meshes her wide-ranging influences into something new, fluid, icy, and more often than not, sensual. I knew ‘Black Star’ wasn’t going to be any different.
WHAT SONGS STOOD OUT ON THE FIRST LISTEN?
Wale: I liked “Girlie-Pop!.” I feel like it captures Amaarae’s vision of pushing Afropop into the future. She’s also really grown comfortable with music and lyricism and will not dumb down her message for anybody. The instrumental for “Girlie-Pop!” is also a wonder; it’s so dense, but there are pockets for Amaarae to be emotive about her feelings. Top song!
Daniel Akins: I need to hear “B2B” at the next rave I’m at. Amaarae is in her Dance era, and I’m here for it. Kiss Me Thru The Phone pt 2” with PinkPantheress is the collaboration I knew I needed, and I’m glad they finally linked up. It’s a clear standout on the project; their ethereal style complements each other.
Shina: “B2B” was the one that did it for me. That is my favourite track on the project. The number of times I ran it back was unhealthy for a first listen. It was also really fun to catch the Don Toliver “Best You Had” sample. I need to hear this outside!
HOW WELL YOU THINK THE GUEST APPEARANCES ENHANCED THE LISTENING EXPERIENCE?
Israel: The guest features on Black Star aren’t mere flexes. They’re strategic, theatrical, and sometimes emotionally resonant. They enhance, yes, but they do so on Amaarae’s terms. A standout for me was PinkPantheress on “Kiss Me Thru The Phone pt 2.” The tradeoff is that a few songs feel like dazzling cameos rather than an integrated conversation, yet overall they enhance the album’s drama, texture, and bravado with precision.
Daniel Banjoko: Everyone showed up and delivered, no weak links here. Instead of just guest spots, they felt like vital pieces of a bigger puzzle. Charlie Wilson on “Dream Scenario” nailed his part especially, making the track sound exactly like its name promises.
Moore: The guest appearances on ‘Black Star’ feel very intentional; each one enhances the album’s world without overshadowing Amaarae’s vision. PinkPantheress’s signature airy delivery meshes with Amaarae’s experimental pop sound. Naomi Campbell’s commanding voice on “ms60” is an unexpected but powerful addition, adding drama to the track. Each feature feels carefully chosen.
WHAT SONG IS THE BIGGEST SKIP?
Bamise: Not to be a party pooper, but I don’t get the PinkPantheress collab, “Kiss Me Thru The Phone pt 2.” It feels like a PinkPantheress song with less pop in it, and just borrows the title of the iconic Soulja Boy song but has no other similarities. It’s between that and “ms60.” For me, the chorus of that sounds like something I’ve heard from Amaarae before, and I doubt its absence would have diminished the album.
Shina: I feel like biggest skip is a strong word for a solid project, but if I have to pick a song to skip, it’ll be “ms60.” I think it’s easily forgettable.
Wale: It’s hard to single out a song that stuck out to me, but hearing Naomi Campbell on “ms60” threw me off. It’s just too contrived to bear for me.
WHAT SONG HAS THE BIGGEST HIT POTENTIAL?
Boluwatife: My gut answer would probably be “She Is My Drug,” just because of how she beautifully reworks the melodies from Cher’s “Believe.” DJ remixes of this song could go crazy. But if I were to think a bit more logically, TikTok would probably lap up “Kiss Me Thru The Phone pt 2.”
Daniel Banjoko: “Kiss Me Thru the Phone pt 2” goes crazy. Amaarae and PinkPantheress are the perfect match. This collab feels like it was destined to happen, and it delivers in full. Honestly, I can’t believe it took this long, and now I just need more tracks from these two, ASAP.
Moore: “Kiss Me Thru The Phone pt 2” has the biggest hit potential on the album. The song has a nostalgic, sad party girl vibe that makes it appealing, and it’s also catchy and well-produced. PinkPantheress consistently performs well on platforms like TikTok, and her fanbase overlaps in a really interesting way with Amaarae’s. The collaboration feels organic and exciting, and will likely create a lot of buzz.
OVERALL FIRST IMPRESSIONS
Wale: There is a very visceral quality to how Amaarae expresses desire that I don’t hear very often in a lot of music. It’s abstracted and warped in futuristic textures, but it’s very profoundly human, and it’s always great to hear that even as she advances the sonics of her delivery. I do, however, have an issue with the thematic scope of ‘Black Star.’ I thought there would be overt references to her experiences of navigating her Ghanaian identity, but those references are limited to samples and interpolations. It’s still an incisive listen and a triumph for finding ways to advance music from Africa.
Bamise: It’s Amaarae; she can never go wrong. But for me, this is the album that excites me the least from her catalogue. Other than how bass-heavy some songs on the album are, like “S.M.O.” and “She Is My Drug” among others, it feels similar to other projects I’ve heard from her in a way that’s not exactly refreshing or mind-bending. I may have gotten spoiled by how diverse and eclectic Amaarae’s music tends to be, but I wanted more from her. I expected more gangster, Hip-Hop Amaarae. Thematically, I didn’t get anything that gives the Black Star of Ghana, or black stars are ruling the world. Will I listen again and enjoy every bit of it still, though? Yes, I will.
Shina: So first off, this is a solid body of work. I love the fact that Amaarae stuck with the Dance, Electro-Pop route she was going with throughout the album. The features also played their part, adding their unique touches to each record. I would say, though, a feature I would’ve loved to hear on this project is 070Shake. I think she would have been perfect on “100DRUM,” but we don’t always get what we want, do we? Thematically, I think Amaarae could’ve leaned heavily on her Ghanaian heritage, seeing as the title and cover of the album are a nod to that. Maybe Amaarae just wants us to dance, and that’s what I’m just gonna do, and you should too.
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