On His Sixth Album “Duplicity” BOJ Turns Inwards

In the heat of an argument with a romantic interest, as both parties fired off a salvo of words at the other, BOJ recalls being hit by a word with the forcefulness of revelation. So much so that it seemed to sear itself in his heart. The word? Duplicitous, which the Merriam-Webstar dictionary defines as “deceptive in words or action.” The etymology of the word however reveals a richer meaning. Originating from the Latin word “duplicitas,” which translates to “doubleness,” duplicity is perhaps better defined as being “two faced”. Part of the word’s visceral and enduring impact on BOJ owed something to its novelty to him. His understanding of its meaning was spotty at best. Notwithstanding, the impression it left on him was acute. After the argument, he searched out the word’s meaning and in that moment the pieces of an album began to fall into place. But first, he had to look inside himself and face the messy, neglected parts of himself. He recognized the assessment—his duplicity—as being true and decided to interrogate it through what would come to be his sixth studio album Duplicity. On the one hand BOJ is a consummate lover. On the other hand, he’s a slippery hedonist whose noble intentions ultimately get undercut by his worldliness. As he sees it, this project is an attempt at consolidating these seeming polarities.

Much of the pleasure of BOJ’s music comes from hearing him paint vivid scenes with narrative-led lyrics delivered in his characteristically relaxed style. For example, consider Minimal Fuss, his 2023 collaboration with Odumodublvck. The anecdotes BOJ delivers here are so vivid that with the aid of a few glasses of whiskey you might find yourself in the sleazy scenes he conjures. In his verse, Odumodublck sings about losing a girl he had chased for quite a while to BOJ. Surprisingly, he’s not indignant or resentful, what he displays instead is something close to admiration. “Brother, show me the way/ How you take run am? Minimal fuss,” he sings. True to form, BOJ takes much pleasure in regaling him with stories of flying the lady in question around the world and treating her to the finer things in life. 

Despite what the narratives leading up to the album’s release might suggest, there are few moments of cinematic storytelling on Duplicity. Instead, as he toggles between romance and hedonism, his lyrics take on a kind of free floating form, something akin to a sketch as opposed to a fully drawn image. As a result the project feels significantly different from his typical works. Here the listener is less a spectator, and more of an active participant in the construction of the narratives he supplies, filling out the gaps in his stories with grafts from their imagination. Take the Genio-produced Italawa, featuring Odumodublvck and Sgawd. The title—Yoruba for “we are outside,” the lyrics—a patchwork of themes ranging from sex to drugs, and the boisterous production, make it obvious that the setting is a club. What happens in this club however remains foggy. Nonetheless, by piecing together the scraps of information supplied by BOJ and his costars, and running them through your imagination, a sprawling story suddenly opens up before you. We again glimpse this effect again through songs like Diamonds, Awon Boys, Contraband, and Shana—all of which find him monomaniacally fixated on hedonism.

Another way Duplicity departs from his archetypal projects is in its cast of features. As an artist who started out as a member of a collective—DRB Lasgidi, which in its heyday also comprised Teezee and Fresh L—BOJ has always felt at home in the company of a large lineup of collaborators. Most of his albums only find him unaccompanied on a lone song or two. Duplicity, by contrast, only features eight guest artists: Olamide, Mavo, Obongjayer, ODUMODUBLVCK, Pa Salieu, and SGaWD. This relative sparseness of features has the effect of providing a less mediated view of BOJ and magnifying the impact of the featured artists. When Olamide’s verse comes on in Contraband, you feel the contours of the project take on a different dimension. Mavo, Obongjayer, ODUMODUBLVCK, Pa Salieu, and SGaWD, similarly bring their unique styles into BOJ’s languid world, opening up the project to bursts of novelty.

BOJ’s putative intention of straddling his romantic and hedonistic sides on this album might suggest an equal devotion to both topics. In reality, the album significantly skews hedonistic. In the moment where he sinks to a romantic register—familiar terrain for him—the project shimmers with magic. Rodeo, the clear standout on the radiates disarming honesty. Consider the song’s overture, in which, over gentle guitar strumming, he sings: “I no fit leave am for anybody, she sef no fit leave am for anybody.” Here he enlists his submission on the age-old topic of intense romantic attraction. Nonetheless, despite BOJ’s romantic overtures, calling it a love song can feel a bit like a misnomer. When he sings “I think she’s ready for the rodeo,” it’s hard not to think he’s poised  to send his lover on a rollercoaster ride. But it’s this specter of duplicity which threads through the album, rearing its head in unexpected places, that gives its characteristic appeal.