Back in 2017, a host of pop culture podcast, Loose Talks Giants, furiously asked, “Who the fuck is Ckay?” — a question which turned into a buzzy internet soundbite, a burning topic on Twitter and an eventual diss-esque response project of the same title from Ckay. But not much can top landing a global chart-topping hit with “Love Nwatiti”, securing sold out shows, and multiple RIAA certifications as a way of ensuring everyone knows who the fuck you are.
Ckay, the Nigerian singer, songwriter, and producer has since become the poster kid for African music’s immutable position in the international sphere. And manoeuvring the world’s consciousness at such a quick pace and lofty height (especially as one of the continent’s first contemporary artists to achieve truly global status) may prove a daunting affair leading to the questioning of self. However, on his 2022 full-length debut, Sad Romance, Ckay had seemingly figured out who he is as an artist. Or at least, who he wanted to be; a guy existing in a world of his own making and peddling his own sub-genre, emo-afrobeats (a fusion of introspective storytelling and traditional afrobeats influences).
With his sophomore album, Emotions, he attempts to showcase the more complex nature of growth and interpersonal relationships. The cherry sweet ballads and duets that lined Sad Romance give way to bouncy, energetic pop tunes signalling a somewhat new and evolved Ckay who has ditched the rose-coloured lenses from which he once viewed the world.
“At its core, Emotions is about vulnerability and growth,” he says of the album in a press statement. In many ways, Emotions presents as an honest and perhaps autobiographical window into the throes of personal evolution and romance. In 2024, this may look like confusion, caution, angst, denial, make-belief self-reliance, conflicting emotions, and everything in-between.
On the album’s opening record, “That Feeling”, Ckay spares no time in making known his current headspace. “If you are looking for the love of your life, I am not the one,” he sings on the thumping, amapiano- track. Love and commitment are no longer experiences his lovers are to expect from him but a good time is still guaranteed. But that doesn’t stop the very human need for connection and intimacy from rearing its head. In this world where traditional African instrumentation and contemporary electronic techniques co-exist, cheeky contradictions can too.
At different points in the often self-indulgent project, he openly admits to his unwavering desires to be loved. He asks,“How deep is your love/is it deeper than the ocean floor?” on the successive record, “Ride or Die” where he tests the waters of his lover’s loyalty. “Fall In Luv” sees him challenging his love interest’s stance asking, “Why you dey do like say you no dey fall in love?”. “Mysterious Love”, a groovy uptempo number characterised by its use of the Oja flute, is penned from the perspective of a guy in, well “serious love”.
Much of the album’s appeal lies in its production work which is owed to Ckay’s background as a producer. However, his verses too often find you holding your breath ready to plunge into the depth of the ocean with him. Instead, you fall flat to the earth. It is never really about what he says, but how he says it. “So many options, but I’m the chosen one/Ice on my neck, I’m the frozen one,” he confidently belts on the flirty, previously released focus track “In My Bed”. Where the song triumphs is at its chorus. He employs a simple repetition pattern punctuated by a breezy baseline—a tested formula he mastered on previous earworm tracks like the anthemic “Kiss Me Like You Miss Me” off Boyfriend EP.
The features on the album are thoughtfully crafted. These days, you can’t really tap into the rhythmic flux of a traditional African album without calling for an assist from revered highlife duo, The Cavemen. On the twangy “Addicted” they join Ckay for an exchange dedicated to their lover switching between English and Igbo. International collaborations may sometimes prove tricky with artists struggling to find their footing on afrobeats tracks, However, Ty Dolla Sign appears to feel right at home on “Dorime”. Olamide puts his singing voice on display on “Wahala” for a few lines before returning to the veteran rap cadence the music scene has come to love him for.
By the end of the album, things shift gears into a more ruminative zone with Olamide once again making an appearance on “Vanity” for a reflective moment on the one the trials of fame. Closing out with “Final Form”, Ckay offers a warning to anyone trying to test him stating, “I go show you my crase if a nigga want to try me”. He shows that the lovelorn, purple-haired guy is gone and a blonde, carefree maven has emerged ready to face anyone, including himself.
