What is the truth? Is the truth that incontestable, universal entity? Or is everyone’s truth born of their own unique perspective, an experience that can not be gleaned by any means short of, somehow, becoming that person and viewing the world through their eyes? Odumodublvck’s view on truth is the latter, but like most people’s, it poses as the former. His Spotify note for EZIOKWU (which in Igbo means “truth”), reflects this. Most artists employ this quaint medium as an effusive Call-To-Action: ‘Listen to my single “Rhythm And Blues” ’, Ayra Starr enthusiastically pleads on her Spotify page. A few others cram a line of appreciation into this attachment: “Album is out. Thank you for listening.” says BNXN, whose debut album, Sincerely, BNXN released in the same week as EZIOKWU and has been locked in a chart-topping battle since.
For EZIOKWU, Odumodublvck went with “THE TRUTH IS HERE”, conferring a finality with his signature caps-locked typography. But it really is his truth, a first-person oral exposition that he hopes will be held superior to the image he has unwittingly acquired in the one year since DOG EAT DOG made him a subject of national interest. In this time he has polarized listeners, as is to be expected of any rapper who attempts to disrupt Nigeria’s Pop dominance with an unorthodox, slang-littered ruggedness. EZIOKWU is his debut album and an opportunity to stanch the controversy and paint a better image of himself.
But Odumodublvck ignores this chance and instead doubles down on the elements that have, for both good and evil, kept him in mainstream conversations for most of the year. Here, however, he provides the most tempting proposition: he sports his usual battle-hardened grit but coats it in glitter for a more congenial exterior. He calls it Okporoko music—his genre-contorting creation that has him imbue Rap with melody to create a delicious hook. This designation is, according to him, a play on Okporoko’s (or stockfish’s) place in many Nigerian dishes: not very palatable on its own, but still a crucial addition to many delicacies. On EZIOKWU, Odumodublvck comes closest to both balance and brilliance when he disguises his bitter message with saccharine delivery.
Amaarae and Bloody Civilian contribute the latter, anesthetizing you with honeyed vocals—Amaarae’s slippery and sultry, Bloody Civilian’s crystal-sharp and fervid—while Odumodublvck lands the fatal blow on KUBOLOR and BLOOD ON THE DANCE FLOOR. Fireboy also fills a similar position on FIREGUN, but, successful as this method is, Odumodublvck is careful not to repeat it too often, especially because he means to retain his primary title as a rapper. The other half of his guest list has this in mind, and these features work to re-calibrate Odumodublvck’s compass. Wale appears guns blazing on BLOOD ON THE DANCE FLOOR, with the beat his first casualty—he is as sterling as he needs to be to not be eclipsed by his co-performers. Odumodublvck and record label boss Teezee underwhelm on the sluggish STRIPPERS ANTHEM: a loop of “Cash go make am lap/ rubbers go make am twerk” does not make a sufficiently strong chorus, but a slinky Psycho YP pulls his weight on his verse.
Odumodublvck wants you to come for the ragga-straddling bounce of DOG EAT DOG II and ADAMMA BEKE and stay for the pulsating hostility of SAINT OBI and MC OLUOMO, which cut closer to his essence. This was always going to be an uphill battle; nonetheless, he enjoyed the trip between these poles. He excels at blurring the lines between genres, or more accurately, pulling elements from one into the other to create mutations that will spark debates on the authenticity of his Rap claims—when the trippy DECLAN RICE won Best Rap Single at the Headies, a few felt it did not fit the bill for a Rap nomination. HAMMER TIME, which he wrote originally to celebrate his endorsement deal with Obi Cubana’s Odogwu Hammer, a vodka mix, floats in the chasm between genres, but his writing anchors it firmly to Odumodublvck’s substance: “Tochukwu go meet up, he was born to be top”, he sings, imagining his current status to be fulfilled prophecy.
This grass-to-grace mantra finds expression in other songs in the album. On TESLA BOY, Odumodublvck’s usual combativeness gives way to cockiness: “I dey dine with the big big boys/ Roll with the pretty girls/ Pull up in a Tesla toy”. Blaqbonez’s contribution here suffers from a poor mixing choice, which gives the appearance that the rapper is delivering his verse from some distance away. But he stays close thematically to the song, rapping about new cars and the struggles of becoming successful. Odumodublvck, however, errs by including women among his material conquests—a common trope for rappers, but worse here because Odumodublvck approaches them with the same roadman tonality that he does the rest of the album “Fall into her kpekus like a beast,” he exclaims on the album opener, before clarifying later that he had received consent. This is intended to be humorous but will not draw many laughs.
Odumodublvck is a little too eager to appear as unchanged as possible by his shiny new record label, by his increasing fame, by the many handshakes he’s shared with bigshot music executives. He succeeds in holding on to his core, partly because he retains the producers and sound engineers who were with him from the onset: Trill Xoe and Johnwav, who co-created DECLAN RICE and FIREGUN, return for KUBOLOR; Jimohsoundz reprises the coldhearted swagger of PICANTO on BLOOD ON THE DANCEFLOOR; Ucee, who produced DOG EAT DOG, returns to mix and master most of the album. By working with his day-one collaborators, it makes for a cohesive album.
In his many battles on Eziokwu, Odumodublvck is spoilt for choice in weaponry. He reaches for a handgun, a sword, and a pump-action rifle in turn, but nothing is ever as combat-trusted as his brash demeanor, and his intrepid eagerness to “kwack them”, whether he be before ten or a hundred men. Beneath this, though, lies a sincerity of self and complete transparency. EZIOKWU offers something rare: an unfiltered tour of the artist.
Last year, Boy Alone resonated with many because Omah Lay refused to gloss over any of the toxic stops on the heartbreak road—not the drinks, the drugs, or the depravity. EZIOKWU offers a similar trip down a different lane, and should inspire a similar cult-like love for the album. And if it doesn’t, on the chance that the album grates against your sensibilities, Odumodublvck will not be much bothered. Are you ticked off by violence? Nauseated by blood? He knows but doesn’t consider “your one stream”, as he sings in SAINT OBI, a good enough incentive to alter any aspect of himself. EZIOKWU is Odumodublvck’s unpolished reality, his truth.