Album Review: Olamide & Phyno – 2 Kings

Artist: Olamide & Phyno

 

Album Title: 2 Kings

 

Label: YBNL/Penthauze

 

Release Date: April 1, 2015.

 

2 Kings is the eagerly anticipated project from Phyno and Olamide, a duo whose wicked chemistry Nigeria was introduced to circa 2013 on Ghost Mode, a grimy street anthem. An impolite four-minute ode to punchline mastery, perhaps it was the surprise that it could work so well or that the street had, without knowing it, been yearning for something just like. Whatever it was, hip-hop heads started a casual love affair with these two, and the clamour for a joint project got louder after Dope Money and Aju. Radio, TV, blogs, they all wanted to know; ‘Fellas, when is that fire project coming?!’

The idea that all wasn’t well came with the stealthy release of the album. This was no Beyoncé move, the unexpected release of whose album ‘broke’ the internet; Drake followed suit and fans rushed in to buy, just so they could join in the conversation. These releases were part of the marketing and these are global superstar who have established the credibility it takes to pull off such a G move. 2 Kings’ anticipation had already been diluted in part by Olamide’s stubborn ubiquity; his subpar release late last year caused a lot of hip-heads to recalibrate their expectations from this project. That said, this should not have been an album dropped like drizzle on unsuspecting commuters.

This is a vacuous record, shorn of personal and political awareness; it was made for any time which is not to imply that it has potential to stay in deck, as it were. No, it’s largely, save for three or four songs, a ‘bé-bé’ (anyhow) project. That Phyno and Olamide betrayed this hyper rare opportunity is a grinding disappointment. Popular Nigerian hip-hop is in a rut and they could have revived it. Phyno, revelling in his more than decent debut and from being the first true superstar rapper from the East, and Olamide, from the comfort of having club hits after club hits.

How did it come to this? Nigerian hip-hop has always been the poorer cousin of the more popular Afro-pop, which has proven so lucrative. Rappers are erasing the lines between them and kpangolo stars, even the beats are indistinguishable. Lamba, which Olamide often describes his hits as, is dance music. There is nothing wrong per se with rappers on dance beats; this is what the market demands, but the shallowness required to make popular Nigerian hits found itself all over this record. Hip-hop is now as lazy as its kpangolo brother; the dudes who are the visible lyricists are content with spitting trite, uninspiring punchlines, it’s all so predictable. The quest to make party tunes as a means to ensure continued relevance has almost sapped Naija rap of its essence. The cats who do tell a story, those who rhyme over cold beats and really try to keep it real remain on the periphery – Mojeed, with his stellar debut, Westernized West African, SDC and their all around dopeness, Suté, Boogey, to name a few. You won’t find these cats doing Lamba, but is the audience listening to as it should?

Music stars, Nigerian ones specifically, are content to make music like employees; ultimately, the goal is to nab a sponsorship deal with a big corporate. Hip-hop is protest music, buck and set the trend art, its primary consumers here is composed of people whose story is told, as opposed to written, which is what makes this art so suited to an African audience. The space for bravery in (Nigerian) hip-hop remains unoccupied. M.I did his part, but he’s more content at playing the elder statesman now, iLLBLiSS dropped the unfortunately slept on Different Kind of War, a blistering indictment of Nigeria’s political class – hip hop can dance too, not just because that is what the market wants but music represents the gamut of emotions its creators feel but here, the country is at a crossroad and the two who symbolise the hope for much better don’t understand the power they wield. What is most galling is, had they planned and executed this project, the desire to make money and maintain relevance would have been more than satiated. From its unambitious title, to the flaccid album art, nothing from this project’s presentation suggests the deliberateness needed to drive the album.

Lagos, the city in which their partnership has found the most resonance, is a diverse city, with a population this is well versed in either tongue. Not to speak of the throngs who speak and think in both, these two personified what Nigeria’s chief city is, a marriage of our disparate cultures to create something unique, something organic, away from the divisiveness of politics, young people are creating art, tech and innovating every day. The duo serve as evidence that Nigeria’s most personal art form had finally caught up with what had been the reality for a lot of people. There are too many angles from which this album could have caught popular imagination, if neither has the requisite curiosity to be political, at least a glimpse into the personal with beats from disparate producers would have enhanced this project.

The failures here are manifold; This album sounds on the whole like an Olamide album, Major Bangz contributed a couple of tracks and it’s unsurprising that Phyno shines brightest on both. His flow reaches its most engaging on God Be With Us, Olamide flounders on this track, stretching syllables to bridge the bars. But the dominance of Pheelz and Young John, the YBNL in-house producers, only enhance the idea that this work was not done for album’s purpose.

The project is essentially a farrago of ready-made joints on which Phyno only later added his verses, save for the Cypher, a Pheelz and B. Banks production collaboration, which as one has come to expect from YBNL’s in-house beat-smiths, is shoddily mastered, and Carry Me Go, featuring the haunting, honest vocals of the peerless Stormrex on the chorus.

Carry Me Go is really good work by Pheelz. Placed inexplicable near the album’s closing, it’s a mix of Bata drums and highlife guitar riffs. The other highlights of the project are the non “hip-hop” joints; Une and Confam (featuring Wizkid) are pop songs with raps tacked on. The songs would have been off without what seemed like rude interruptions especially by Olamide’s grating recitation on Carry Me Go. Ladi is another joint worth mentioning; the song sounds like a smoke session that went too well, a childish rant against oral-sex on which either man was so lackluster a short feature from Lil’ Kesh outshone them.

This project doesn’t have a mood, doesn’t provide the slightest clue into what the MCs were thinking through the process, the beats are just about better than is expected from an Olamide project. Hearing other producers with fresh sounds would have been welcomed, but they never deigned to venture out of their established comfort zones, predictable subject matters, trite flows and a lack of any discernible theme. It’s all such a shame, what should have been a seminal moment in Nigerian hip-hop ruined by a failure to see beyond cheques offered for minimal effort. There is nothing new to hear or feel here.

 

 

This album is rated: 4/10

 

You can follow Tola Sarumi on Twitter :- @AfroVII

 

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*The opinions expressed in this article/review are those of the author, and do not necessarily represent the views of notjustOk.com.*

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