Nigerian street pop expert Asake’s new album Lungu boy finds him as spiritually grounded as ever and growing beyond his center (the title essentially means “boy in the neighborhood” according to Nigerian culture magazine The Native). He has sung of God, good, evil and meaning throughout his discography and across multiple languages, religions and cultures. A prime example is 2023’s “Yoga,” a meditative track he wrote after two women were killed in a crush outside a highly anticipated London show of his in 2022. His third album is simultaneously a look inward after scaling some of the highest heights an Afropop star has ever reached, and an embrace of the vast world around him from those vantage points. Lungu boy Stays true to his beliefs but explores new sounds, becoming Asake’s most rhythmically and emotionally diverse album, with some experiments more successful than others.
“I found a sound among all the sounds,” says Asake, as he recounts the creation of “MMS” with Wizkid, which is sung primarily in Yoruba and Pidgin. Ironically, “MMS,” named after an acronym for Asake’s unique approach, Strictly speaking feels like a concession to Wizkid, with Asake honoring Wiz’s legacy. The Afrobeats veteran has his own distinctive style, cool and jazzy, while Asake’s style is often deep and urgent. Asake’s fame comes from fusions of South African amapiano, which he and producer Magicsticks brought into the Afrobeats mainstream. He also leans heavily towards fuji, a style of music that originated in southwest Nigeria and evolved from heavy, fast percussion instruments used to keep Yoruba Muslims awake for their pre-dawn meal during the holy month of Ramadan. Asake, however, seems right at home on Wizkid’s terrain.
“MMS” is full of divine reverence in the Yoruba language, and much of Lungu boy is delivered in that native tongue. While that has raised the ire of some listeners who don’t understand it, his sense of melody, tempo and attitude transcends language. In fact, the album is often at its best when Asake doesn’t have to worry about translating himself into English. The basic refrain, “Skating is a lifestyle, skating, skating, skating, skating is a part of me,” dilutes a strong production effort on “Skating,” while Asake’s chants of “O ye’loun/Gbogbo nka malo ye Olohun” (“God understands every situation”) on “MMS” add some oomph to a subdued song.
Lungu boy‘s experiments with new genres are most successful when they’re explosive, like the New Orleans bounce and hip-house inflection of the Travis Scott collaboration “Active.” Scott and Asake make for formidable bedfellows, with the Houston rage master deftly working the incessant sample of jazzer Olofin and Adewale Ayuba’s Fuji classic “Raise The Roof” into his verse. Asake goes full Fuji on “Fuji Vibe,” perhaps his rawest take on the genre on wax—at over five minutes, the song culminates in nearly three minutes of pure hand drumming and band jamming, punctuated by clips of passionate applause. Another highlight is the dancehall flip of the Mary J. Blige classic “Real Love” for “Whine,” featuring Brazilian funk star Ludmilla. Songs like “My Heart” and “Uhh Yeah” are a little too heavy-handed for new territory, the former using almost stereotypical Latin sensuality and the latter sounding like Tron-core computer music, but they both have their charm. But with the more subtle songs “Ligali,” “I Swear,” and “Suru,” Asake treads a middle ground between Afrobeats for a Saturday night and Sunday sermon, combining the musicality of worship music with the toughness of the street.
