With “Heis” Rema Taps the Past to Create the Future

Rema has long been a master at subversion; his work delights in a fusion of, sometimes disparate, sounds. He pulls from a sweep of existing influences, subjects them to his unique spin and conjures music that feels beamed in from an alternate universe. On his eponymous debut EP, he riffs on traditional Afropop, flirting with eastern melodies and Trap music as he pulls apart teenage angst and faltering romance. Bad Commando, his follow up effort, sees him deploy nasal trills and blithe hooks to conjure party anthems. The tape sees him reprise his tendency for genre-blurring music. Over four tracks he straddles Reggae, Afropop and Trap, giving new interpretation to these sounds. By the time he would release his debut album, three years after his initial appearance on the scene, his cocktail of sounds had coalesced into a mature whole. 

On Rave and Roses, he wields melodies with the dexterity of a virtuoso, crafting a saccharine-sweet sonic tableau that recalls the feeling of a summer vacation. Over songs wrapped in glossy genre-blurring influences, he channels poignant feelings of love, lust and yearning. His follow up effort, the scarlet colored Ravage, signaled a departure from the melody powered lover boy template. On Ravage, he still deploys melodies, and to great effect. But he’s more somber, more vengeful, more cavalier. Over the EPs five tracks, he eases up on the melodies and allows more room for the freewheeling drums that undergird the project. Surfing chest thumping beats supplied by P.Prime and London, he issues pointed warnings to his antagonist and asserts his own ascendency. 

Heis is his most experimental offering so far. If the essence of Ravage is captured by the color scarlet, Heis is personified by black, pitch black. Over beats that recall the frenetic energy of a mosh pit, he crowns himself king over his peers. On the album’s lead Hehehe, he declares “No more big three, there’s now a big four”, inserting himself into an exclusive pantheon historically reserved for Wizkid, Davido & Burna Boy . Continuing with the retribution crusade he started on Ravage, he snipes at his critics. On Hehehe he sings “Not gonna take it easy on my hater.” Consistent with his mission to herald his roots, he taps his hometown culture across the album’s 11 tracks.

For all the experimentation the album enjoys, it’s more of a revival of forgotten Nigerian sounds than a completely fresh reimagination of the soundscape. Heis arrives at a troubled time for Afrobeats. For months now, pop culture conversations have centered on the monotony within the genre, with many chalking this stagnation to an over-dependence on Amapiano. At the Lagos listening party for Heis, Rema chimed in on the conversation. He echoed the Amapiano over-reliance rhetoric, stressing the need for a return to authentic Afropop. The album functions as a concerted response to the lull in the scene and its modus operandi is a radical return to the percussion heavy flavor that defined Afropop in the 2010s. 

Speaking to Apple Music he says “With the success that has (you know) come to Aftobeats, I feel like it’s slowly changing our perception of the sound …, we’re listening to the voices of the world too much and we need to listen to the voice of the people back home..” The album is entirely sung in Nigerian pidgin and nods to a slew of uniquely Nigerian cultural references. On Hehehe and Heis he deploys the popular Nigerian slang “Abido Shaker”, which loosely translates to  a form of esoteric power. On the first verse of Azaman, against the backdrop of stormy drums that recall club bangers of the early 2010s, he breaks into a refrain that sees him sing the praises of popular Nigerian luminaries. It’s a staple in Nigerian party culture and a motif that cuts through Afrobeats stretching back decades. 

The bold drum patterns on the Heis embody his intent to keep this album true to the home fans. Unlike 2022’s Rave and Roses, he strips away the melodies, and instead allows militant drums to take center stage. The key distinction between western pop and traditional West-African music lies in  the  drum pattern. While the former deploys easily discernible and repeating patterns, West African music revels in freewheeling drums that function almost entirely to elicit vigorous dancing. Across the album he taps the drum patterns of an array of African styles. On Ozeba, he channels the pulsating rhythms of Mara, rapping with a chip on his shoulder. The flamboyant drums on March Am, War Machine and Hehehe feel reminiscent of a vintage Don Jazzy production. There’s also Benin Boys, where Producer X apparently takes inspiration from the splashy bangers of the early 2010s. On Egungun, bellicose Makosa drums roll freely. 

The major driving force on Heis is Rema’s desire to brandish the banner of his culture, Nigerian culture broadly speaking but also his native Benin culture, on the global stage. On the album cover as well as promotional videos for the project, he hones in on Benin iconography with the imagery of bats. But where this motif shines strongest is in his glorification of fraud culture, which, for better or for worse, has become a feature of contemporary Benin (and Nigerian) culture. This feature of the album is conflicting. On the one hand, exploring morally reprehensible aspects of the human experience is a valid artistic pursuit. Also, internet fraud has always been a topic of interest to Afropop artists, tracing back to the genre’s origins. However, if putting his culture on the global stage is Rema’s aim, doesn’t it make sense to give a balanced portrayal of its essence? There is more to Benin City than bats and internet fraud. Rema falters by narrowing its focus. Benin City is an ancient kingdom that boasts of a rich history spanning centuries. To have such a wide canvas and choose to paint only a tiny portion is a glaring waste of potential. 

On Heis, Rema is laser-focused. At under half an hour, the album never feels bloated. As he embraces the insouciant essence that defined Afropop’s yesteryears, he also mines from a cauldron of contemporary avant-garde references to imbue his sound with modern flair. For the album’s aesthetics, he references Playboi Carti and the Metal scene. The obsidian vocal inflections strewn across the album are also totemic of Carti’s signature style of delivery. However, at its core, the album is authentically Nigerian. Over the project’s 11 tracks, Rema assumes the mantle for the next evolution of Afrobeats as he channels the past to create the future.