Possibly the first Atlantan-Nigerian to appear on the Jukebox…

[Video][Website]
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Brad Shoup: Recently, the Nigerian pop singer Waconzy was the guest on a ChannelsTV program delightfully titled “Rubbin’ Minds.” “Do you think we’re doing the right thing?” asked the host. “A lot of fans — including I sometimes — wonder why a lot of these songs sound a little too alike.” He went on to ask how Waconzy distinguishes himself from his peers. Sufficiently baited, Waconzy responded that as a business owner, he had an obligation to record enough product that he could issue singles while he tended to other facets of his company. He then pivoted to the positivity in his songs, referring to “little children” who don’t care about meaning, “they just want to make noise.” Prodded for specifics, he went on. “Like this ‘Skelewu’ song — God knows that I don’t know any part of the verse.” He paused and turned to the camera. “But I like the song.” His confusion is understandable — apparently, “skelewu” has no real definition. So yeah, it won’t carry the same meaning as “I was born with a silver spooooon/But then I lost the spooooon,” but paired with the cistern-dropped percussion and pushbroom synths, you can’t mistake its function. The sound spectrum is crowded, no doubt; I feel like I’m listening in the round. I’ve carried the stepwise 8-note hook with me all day, as well as that mournful quality minor-key Nigerian pop, with its loyalty to Auto-Tune, tends to impart. I’m going to need that more often than a good wedding song.
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Anthony Easton: Forgive me a grad school movement, but this layering of sign and signifiers, this beautiful hash of Lagos to Atlanta, from Atlanta to the UK, a techno reverse of the genocidal obscenities of the Atlantic triangle, the figuring out what Blackness means — after but including Fela in Detroit and Nina in Liberia — the angles and layers and negotiations are a perfect example of how tenuous networks of social capital are being built up, slowly, each threatening but not quite collapsing. 
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Daniel Montesinos-Donaghy: Dark-tinged, something something. A clattering somewhere in the depths of the track, hidden away somewhere behind wobbles and blackbox vocal filtering and forward motion signifying nothing at all, really.
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Alfred Soto: The hook reminded me of this noche buena staple, modernized glitz and all, will to dance and all.
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Scott Mildenhall: The obvious word for this is hypnotic, and that’s a curse as much it is a blessing — it’s all well and good being in a trance, but eventually you come out of it, and all you’re left with is someone slowly swinging a watch in front of your face — but for the few minutes it’s playing, it’s captivating, not dissimilar to a downbeat “Animals.” A video filmed on the same fake British street used by Fuse ODG (and Dizzee, and The Artist James Arthur, and Cheryl Cole) could also suggest a push down the same road; it might have needed a bit more levity for that, but overall it happening would be a good thing.
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Mallory O’Donnell: Sensual, cluttered, methodical, claustrophobic. Impossible to remain immobile to. Party music for an industrial graveyard. Please send more.
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