“Eko Groove” Finds DJ Spinall At The Height of His Curatorial Powers

In 2016, a propulsive Afro-fusion track titled Gba Gbe E began slithering onto dance floors across the country. To the extent that the song became a party starter, we have Burna Boy’s smooth delivery and Spellz’ masterful production to thank. We would however be remiss if we left out the contributions of the upstart DJ who put the song together. In the video—set in a serene neighborhood—wearing a t-shirt and a colorful fila, he gingerly manipulates knobs and sliders on his controller as dancers cavort in the periphery. With Gba Gbe E DJ Spinall made the great leap most DJs aspire to: progressing from playing solely for a live audience to making one’s own music. Years before, in 2004, he had started his career as a little-known DJ playing for Raypower 100.5pm and slowly worked to near mythical status. Today he’s arguably the most successful African DJ, with a boat-load of hits to his name.

Last year, during his historic Coachella set—he made history as the first Afrobeats DJ to perform a dedicated set at the festival—he delighted fans with an assortment of hits from his discography: Nowo featuring Wizkid, Sere featuring Fireboy and the Ycee and Oxlade-assisted Jabole, amongst others. Unlike with most DJs, the allure of a Spinall set lies not so much in the smooth and subversive transitions that tend to dominate social media these days as in his preternatural curatorial powers. While most DJs would be satisfied with electrifying the audience with thumping hits, Spinall’s goal with his performances is to conjure—through music, set design, and occasionally choreography—a fleeting world in which partygoers can lose themselves, even if only for a few minutes. Take his Coachella performance last year where he trotted out Eyo masquerades over Burna Boy‘s soulful singing in Jerusalema.

It’s this panoramic curatorial vision that has ensured Spinall’s continued relevance; it’s also what makes his latest album Eko Groove one of the most compelling Afrobeats projects released this year. Eko Groove features a prodigious assemblage of stars—Wizkid, Olamide, Omah Lay, Tyla, Teni, T.I., Jay O, Niniola, Victony, Buju Banton, Young Jonn, and Summer Walker, amongst others. It also features a cast of lesser-known but prodigiously talented artists, including Tay Iwar, Ami Faku, Taves, Shine TTW, and others. These artists each have their distinct styles and predilections and yet the album feels incredibly cohesive; songs flow into each other with spectacular ease, and artists with complementary styles are also paired. The result is an album that reels you in easily and excites you all the way through.

The album is mostly a collection of love songs in which frothy lyrics and sultry melodies combine beautifully. In Loju, Wizkid alternates between boastful lyrics and gingerly serenading his muse. The song’s production is equal parts boisterous and poignant, complementing Wizkid’s measured delivery. A similar dynamic plays out in Want You where Jay O and Destiny Conrad slather the sultry salsa-inspired production with sensual lyrics. “Love how you make me misbehave/ Girl only you can cool my brain,” Jay O sings in the chorus. Omah Lay’s delivery on One Call, which also features Tyla, is one of the most memorable on the album. In the song, he conjures a version of love that exists in the realm of romantic fiction. When he sings “I’m on my way to you/ Time is on the loose/ I will always fight for truth/ If I get the chance to choose/ Like every other superhero my weakness is love,” you can easily picture a valiant soldier returning from the carnage of war to claim his lover.

Kerosene featuring Young Jonn is in some sense the perfect contrast to One Call, it’s however no less compelling. In fact, it’s arguably the best song on the project. The beat is more upbeat, perfect for a night of unfettered merriment. Where Omah Lay deploys intricate metaphors and evocative storytelling to express his affection for his muse, Young Jonn deploys slang, and cultural references to the same effect. “Ogogoro sweet pass sugar/ But your body burn like kerosene/ Love is blind o/ But your loving show me everything/ Come gimme love in the movies/ Like Omotola and Genevieve/ They say, love is blind na, but your loving show me everything,” he sings in the chorus.

The album occasionally takes a detour from the romantic and sensual world it mostly inhabits and turns towards introspection. Take Struggle where Buju Banton, Summer Walker, and Jaz Karis, explore the subject of life’s attendant struggles with piercing lyrics and affecting singing. “Man, the suffering is real and the pain, many feel/ Many nights down without a meal/ You don’t do a damn thing there/ These days I can’t keep up: With the price of things on the shelf/ Am I alone in my observation?/ Is there anyone else?“ Bubu Banton sings in his verse. In these moments when the project dials down to a somber register, it remains just as compelling. In Psalm 23, which brings the 14 track project to a close, Teni conjures a cocktail of prayerful lyrics and boastful brags over one of the most propulsive beats in the project—a fitting close to an album that promises grooving.