Three Key Takeaways From Odumodublvck’s Industry Machine

At the heart of Odumodublvck’s sophomore album, Industry Machine, released in the early hours of Monday, the 6th of October, lies a deceptively simple inquiry: where does one go after checking all the boxes putatively required for a certain level of respect, for ascendancy into “the club,” and still being treated with a degree of contempt in certain quarters. Since his come-up days, Odumodublvck has confronted the plight every creative given to unorthodoxy has had to face: having asterisks tacked onto your achievements, hostility from those zealous about preserving the orthodoxy, and having to constantly prove you belong. 

Given the wild success of his debut album Eziokwu, which radically bent the Nigerian Hip Hop landscape to his will, one would assume Odumodublvck’s ascendancy into the Hip Hop pantheon a forgone conclusion, if not for anything else, for the sheer impact of his work. But in the intervening period between Eziokwu and the just-released Industry Machine, he faced a welter of criticism from those at odds with the perceived crude flavor of Rap he traffics in. As such Industry Machine hews to a familiar trope: wrestling against one’s antagonists to prove one’s bona fides. 

To this end Odumodublvck deploys a variety of gambits: everything from mining nostalgia to enlisting an armada of heavyweight artists; among them, Wizkid, Mode 9, Davido, Patoranking, Reminisce, Phyno, and Zlatan. All of this makes for a project that crackles with momentum. Listening, we get the sense that the project is taking us somewhere; through the mire of the many skirmishes he addresses and towards a resolution, a transformation at the end of the road. 

Below are Culture Custodian’s takeaways from Industry Machine, which, at the time of writing, sits atop most charts in the country.

Odumodublvck Knows How To Make An Album

All great albums share a few qualities, among them: some degree of inventiveness, sonic and narrative cohesion, and a sense that the project speaks to some aspect of the zeitgeist—this is crucial. Art, after all, is supposed to hold a mirror to society. It’s also why most albums that go on to define a particular time seem perfectly suited for that moment in time. With Eziokwu, Odumodublvck displayed a surreal degree of aptitude for the three aforementioned qualities of great projects. But in crafting his sophomore project he had one extra requirement to satisfy: displaying growth. This is what separates the good from the great albums, and Odumodublvck does a fine job at this. In Eziokwu, his debut album, the reasons and objects of the rage he evinced were amorphous, hard to parse. When, in Shoot and Go Home, he sings  “I want to shoot and go home,” he sounds like a tyrant on the loose, displaying aggression just for the sake of it. 

By contrast, in Industry Machine, his fury and indignation are laser-focused. Take the titular opening song Industry Machine, where, with a chip on his shoulders, he sings: “Them say na rubbish we dey talk/ Them say na jargons we dey spit/ Some say na hullabaloo lingua.” The soundscape of the project is likewise more refined; his flavor of Afropop, which he calls Okporoko Music, feels more mature as does his ability to fit the orifices of a beat with hard-hitting raps.  

We Need To Have A Conversation Odumodublvck’s Melodic Deftness

Odumodublvck’s music can be bifurcated into two disparate categories. On the one hand, we have the machismo-addled rap songs like Declan Rice and MC Oluomo, on the other hand, we have the more melody-driven numbers like Legolas, Kubolor, and Picanto. And while, in his earlier works, he has displayed a knack for harnessing melodies, including him in the pantheon populated with artists like Rema, Lojay, Omah Lay, Odeal, and other expert wielders of melody, it seemed premature. With his melody-driven performances on Industry Machine, however, he has enough to, at the very least, make his case. Listen to the Davido and Seun Kuti-assisted Grooving and hear melodies so silky and enrapturing that they make the performing artists feel like elite surfers riding a gentle wave. We feel the same effect when we listen to the titular Industry Machine, 2 People featuring Cash Cobain, Do Yanga featuring Patoranking, and Hallelujah, among others. 

Odumodublvck Is Eager To Prove He Deserves His Position 

Having somewhat tackled this topic in the introductory blurb, there’s only so much one can say here. It’s however, important to harp on the zeal and assiduousness with which Odumodublvck goes about the business of proving his deservedness in this album. Odumodublvck’s rejoinder to his denigrators can be distilled into two strategies. The first finds him directly addressing their criticisms and taunts, often with a chip on his shoulder and a sardonic affect. Take Layi Wasabi, where he parries his enemies who take style rap as a joke. “Take man for joke like say I no sabi/ Layi Wasabi, joke man nothing wey you sabi.” In Maradona, he’s more direct. “Them no want I feel among sha,” he sings. 

A line from Unaware is particularly illuminating. “Dem dey wonder how I dominate, ‘He’s really doing numbers with his cornerstone rhythm,’” he sings. The rest of the album flickers with a similar indignation. The second strategy he deploys is enlisting a sprawling cast of venerated artists—nostalgia to enlisting an armada of heavyweight artists; among them, Wizkid, Mode 9, Davido, Patoranking, Reminisce, Phyno, and Zlatan—as if to ask, “If I’m really without talent, why are these heavyweights interested in working with me?” It’s a callback to his 2024 single Not All That, where with palpable indignation, he brags about Skepta gifting him his chain, bagging two Headies awards, and spending 22 weeks on the Billboard Charts. The song’s outro finds him in a cheeky register. “I got a co-sign from Burna/ Co-sign from Skepta/ Co-sign from Baddo/ Co-sign from Wizkid/ Co-sign from David/ Co-sign from Stormzy/ But I’m not all that?” You can almost see the twinkle of mischief in his eyes.