For nearly a decade, Obongjayar’s remarkably chameleonic voice has been a conduit for messages of self love, survival, and seduction. When he ascends an octave from his natural register, the Nigerian born, London based singer embodies a vengeful spirit with unfinished business. Descend an octave, and he transforms into a ferocious dancehall MC. “This place is ugly,” Obongjayar lamented on “God’s Own Children,” a modern spiritual from his 2020 Which Way Is Forward? EP.
“Don’t let it rob you/Of your face, of your grace, and of your body.”
“Born in This Body,” from his new album, Paradise Now, echoes that poignant sentiment “You’re covered in paint/Your clothes and your shoes don’t fit/Don’t make yourself small/For no one.” Yet, this “body” carries the weight of five more years of disillusionment, and the album’s prevailing mood aligns far more closely with the raw anxiety Obongjayar captures on opening track “It’s Time.” “I walk the world with my head on a swivel,” he quivers in his upper register, “It’s hard trusting anything.” Paradise Now is a twitchy, anxious journey, brimming with meditations on love, belonging, and violence. Obongjayar collaborated with proven hitmakers behind artists like Doja Cat and Kendrick Lamar, and as the album races through alt R&B, Afro dance rhythms, indie rock, and brooding Americana, a truly globalized, omnivorous popstar emerges. He is instinctive yet legible, algorithmically tuned without sacrificing originality, and politically charged right up to the line of provocation. Most importantly, he possesses an undeniable ability to make you move.
Obongjayar – Beggars Music Publishing & September RecordingsThe initial four songs on Paradise Now form their own mini arc, charting the dissolution of a relationship. Obongjayar delivers the scornful “Life Ahead” through gritted teeth, but an overly intricate arrangement of martial drums, marimba, and gunshot samples struggles to match the precise aim of his lyrical jabs. More successful is “Peace in Your Heart,” which carves out an indie pop niche reminiscent of the xx’s self titled album and Braids’ Native Speaker. However, the album truly ignites once it sheds the somewhat trite breakup drama. On “Jellyfish,” Obongjayar rails against “spineless” lawmakers in both the UK and stateside (“Bomb bomb spawned by the stars and stripes”). While his critiques are broad strokes, the shuddering, corkscrewing synthesizer leaves his message unmistakable things are rapidly deteriorating. “Talk Olympics,” featuring Little Simz, further intensifies the tempo, ingeniously utilizing both artists as percussive instruments in a slightly more hospitable take on Tanzanian singeli.
Obongjayar – Copyright Beggars Music Publishing & September RecordingsObongjayar then gracefully transitions through some tender Afropop (“Prayer”) and shimmering soul, echoing the likes of Frank Ocean’s Blonde and Moses Sumney (“Moon Eyes”), before abruptly arriving at what sounds like the very gates of hell. “Baby ride me like a cowboy/I’m your cowboy,” he croons on “Sweet Danger,” playfully toying with the inherent machismo of the American West as the song’s blistered blues threaten to consume him. “There’s no saving me.” If salvation is unattainable, one may as well dance amidst the inferno. The standout track on Paradise Now is unequivocally “Not in Surrender,” a potent disco punk anthem that opens with the triumphant misdirection, “I put my hands up, not in surrender/I’m getting ready to fly.” Amidst scorching DFA cowbells, Obongjayar grooves with the spirit of Michael Jackson’s Off the Wall era and seethes with the intensity of TV on the Radio’s Tunde Adebimpe, another musician whose finest work masterfully blurs the lines between disrupting the system and pure, unadulterated chaos.
With a frantic, deconstructed groove and a fuzzed out bassline, “Instant Animal” could easily pass for an outtake from TV on the Radio’s Return to Cookie Mountain and would serve as an appropriately grand finale, were it not for the four remaining tracks. It’s as if everything preceding “Jellyfish” and following “Instant Animal” acts as a padded cell for the wilder, more bracing album contained within. The stagnant, TikTok ified disco of “Just My Luck” is particularly egregious, reeking of potential label interference following Obongjayar’s viral moment on Fred again..’s “adore u.” Paradise Now’s intricate knot of anger, faith, pain, and lust cannot be neatly unraveled by committee. Obongjayar needs to fully stake his claim. “I’m no magician,” he asserts on “Strong Bone,” as though he hadn’t just spent half an album tangled in turmoil and the other half fiercely breaking free.
