For a long time, whenever Brymo’s name is mentioned, his collaboration with rapper Ice Prince comes to mind. That track, ‘Oleku’, proved to be a hit, one which introduced fans to the singer’s smoky vocals. A number of albums followed, about four, before the current one, ‘Osó’ (Yoruba for ‘Wizard’). Granted, a lot of time has passed since his debut offering. And even back then, he was far above average, showing a range usually found in older, more experienced singers. But the growth in this, his fifth studio album, is truly remarkable.
On the first track, ‘No Be Me’, he sings about aspirations, dashed hopes, and lost loves, yet making them sound so fresh. He’s helped by a simple-yet-stunning string-led instrumental which begins slowly and reaches fever pitch, even as his vocals rise up to meet it halfway. I initially wondered why anyone would lead an album with such a stunning track, but then I listened to the next one, a minute-plus interlude called ‘Mama’ which haunts the listener days after a first listen.
Brymo gets into full on griot mode on the next track, ‘Heya!’ He croons (yes, croons) about failed relationships and unrequited love, and surprisingly switches into childhood memories which had me go ‘huh?’ But he forges ahead, and weaves it seamlessly into the previous body of work, and still uses it to prep the listener for the next song.
While ‘Patience & Good Luck’, from its title, immediately sounds like a tribute to Nigeria’s former first couple, it soon makes it clear that it’s not. It actually tries to explain how the virtue of patience leads to good luck, helped by superb vocals, and an instrumental that keeps up the standard from the very beginning of the album.
The following track, the fifth, ‘God Is In Your Mind’, sings about deities falling to earth, forgiveness, and other bleak themes, which suddenly made me realise that the whole album is actually populated by mostly dark, sad lyrics, but which tell happy stories helped by brilliantly-composed instrumentals. Sounds like a paradox? Then it must be one, and very likely mischievously crafted together by the charismatic singer.
Crafted from the beginning like a slow-burn song, ‘Time Is So Kind’ proves to be a house fire in a studio, by way of powerful vocals. That’s the weird thing about Brymo; you know he’s an incredible vocalist, yet he still somehow manages to surprise you with his power. Like when he, on the same track, sings the chorus ‘Everyone’s wrong/Nobody’s right’, it’s an explosion of feels, self-aware yet private, preachy yet irreverent. And at the same time pleasurable.
Speaking of pleasurable, the very next track, ‘Entropy’, begins with razor-sharp-smart lyrics: ‘And you were always buzzing like neon/I can remember now as the song plays/And you became everything I stayed away from/Pulled me down every time I try to take off.’ The deceptively simple instrumentals do their job, providing a canvas in the back for the rawness of the words and the voice delivering them. And when it ends, it seems like it’s with a whimper, but it’s actually a bang. Read: ‘It’s Entropy/Entropy/Took you and left me memories’.
‘Money Launderers And Heartbreakers’ is the most playful of all the tracks in the whole of ‘ Osó’, and yet it’s still pretty brutally honest all at the same time. It seem like a praise song for criminals, but it’s really just telling a tale of reality. And the folksy instruments? Perfect foil for his slyly delivered words of wisdom. ‘I’m pretty outside/But I’m rotten inside’, he sings at some point, and I almost believe it for the earnest way it’s delivered.
The next three tracks, the final on the album, are all in Yoruba. And that’s a good, good thing, especially if you understand even a little of the language. It’s on all three that his lyrical wizardry truly lets loose. On ‘Ọlánrewájú’ he narrates a cautionary tale about a young prince in a hurry to grow up, and his voice is at its most potent, as he weaves and weaves. Next up, ‘Olúmọ’ is – surprise, surprise! – a tribute to famous Nigerian writer, the Nobel laureate Wole Soyinka. With few, sparse lyrics, he waxes about going to visit a professor at Ake, and it results in a truly powerful song.
Strangely enough, the last track, ‘Bá’núsọ’ (Yoruba for ‘Follow Up’), proves to be the weakest song on the album, despite being a formidable effort. But don’t forget, this is a body of work that was earlier described as paradoxical. For all that has been said about Brymo’s great voice, ‘Osó’ – while being hands-down the best album released this year so far – is probably just a taste of what this incredibly gifted artiste has to offer. We wait patiently for the next offering.
