“Rhythm And Blues” Crowns Ayra Starr As Nigerian Pop’s Princess 

Rhythm And Blues begins fully formed; it needs no time to taxi before take off. Sparrq’s production arrests you from the first second, with a thumping Afropop beat that persists throughout the track without much variation, while a single pulsating piano note interjects to provide seasoning. These are the tools with which Ayra forges her second single of the year, and she utilises them regally, gliding over the beats with an adept assuredness even though her material has her in the depths of vulnerability. “I don dey lose my composure/ Got me losing control” she sings somewhat ironically, because she handles the song’s soundscape with all the grace of an olympic gymnast. 

But none of this comes as any surprise. Ayra Starr’s vocal ability and control were evident as early as her eponymous debut EP two years ago, while her inclination to fast-paced Pop production grew from the release of Bloody Samaritan on her debut album and was reiterated on Rush and Sability, her most recent releases. Rhythm And Blues is a clear sonic continuation of this streak of singles, but with enough variation to not only differentiate it from these predecessors but elevate it over them. On Sability, her only other proper release this year, she drew from Awilo Longomba and his brand of Soukous music, with producer London reworking bits from his iconic Coupé Bibamba into a more modern take on the genre. Rhythm And Blues is contrarily a lot more West African in production. 

But while the sonic and cultural niceties that distinguish these singles are mostly fine print, where Ayra makes her growth most obvious is her writing. At the release of Sability she came under heavy fire for her lines, which, admittedly, barely carried a singularity of theme from one to the next—she sings about Amala from Ketu, Shinji Kagawa the ex–Manchester United star and Jesus Christ in consecutive sentences—or even intelligible meaning by themselves. But while some of that criticism was valid in the context of the new release, a few outlandish commenters took it one step further, suggesting that the singer’s writing and lyrical abilities have always been subpar. These statements, of course, were borne of ignorance of her previous work. 

On that debut EP from 2021, as well as the 19 And Dangerous album (and its deluxe) that followed, Ayra Starr pushed her writing to prodigious levels, scripting on love and life with a perception that drew from more experience than her teen age could account for. On Ayra Starr, she promises herself in love (Sare), relives childhood nostalgia (Memories), owns her sexuality with poise and grace (Ija) and even saves a song to ponder on teenage drug abuse and the dangers of peer pressure (DITR). If her writing credentials were not established then, whatever doubts were left should have been crushed by her debut album, where she reprised all of these themes while pushing the envelope for storytelling. There, she maintains a balanced view on relationships from both rose-tinted (Beggie Beggie) to the toxic (Toxic, Snitch), ponders heartbreak (Lonely) and teenage angst (Cast), before emerging through it all in flawless royalty (Bridgertn, Bloody Samaritan). 

The last of these, Bloody Samaritan, was also the album’s most successful song by some distance, in both international reach and national fame, which was ironic because it was one of the album’s most leisurely written. On the track, she played with unnatural production to excellent results, freestyling in half-Rap, half-Pop as she spoke back to society’s expectations and its rules that work to stifle self expression. Its success inevitably shaped Ayra’s future sonic direction, so on follow-up singles Rush and Sability, she shed off the weight of the themes from her projects, lightening her load in pursuit of pure exhilaration. 

With Rhythm And Blues, Ayra asks, why not both? She reenacts a similar fervid production with a more tender subject this time, the unabashed revelation to a partner of just what he means to her: “My heart beat to your rhythm from Monday to Sunday/ Everything’ I go do for my bebe”. Sugary tales of infatuation and material commitments made in exchange for affection are Nigerian Pop’s bread and butter, but they are more often seen traversing in the opposite direction across the gender divide. There are a few women, though, who not only operate in the male-dominated field but flourish in it, and none is more prominent than the No. 1 African Bad Girl herself, Tiwa Savage. 

In her element, Tiwa gracefully embodies Pop—delicately strung lyrics of affecting emotion, usually romance, that she weaves into thumping beats that simultaneously contrast with the vulnerability of the subject while sharing the zing of the performer. With these elements she made her entry to the scene with the sizzling duo of Kele Kele Love and Love Me, Love Me, and she hasn’t looked back in the decade since her arrival. Ayra Starr shares with her a similar verve that is only strengthened by the zest of youth and all of the melodrama it comes with; with Rhythm And Blues, she makes an irrefutable claim for successorship.