Morayo is a compelling blend of personal reflection, cultural homage, and sonic experimentation. While it doesn’t entirely escape the pitfalls of thematic repetition, the album successfully captures the essence of Wizkid’s evolution as a superstar.
By Afrocritik’s Music Board
From the very beginning, there was never any doubt about Wizkid’s trajectory. The magnetic pull of his early singles, the star-making collaborations, and the way his voice melted into beats suggested he was always destined for something bigger than the Lagos music circuit that birthed him.
It’s almost poetic, in retrospect, that his 2011 debut album was titled Superstar—a self-fulfilling prophecy that captured the restless ambition of an artiste who was aiming to crack the global Pop framework. By 2017, with Sounds from the Other Side, Wizkid ventured into crossover territory, confidently placing his sound alongside the swelling currents of global Pop. It was a sonic statement of intent that erased any doubt about his place at the pinnacle of Afro-Pop.
The definitive turning point, though, came in 2020 with Made in Lagos. Its meticulous craft and easy, self-assured tone, with Wizkid anchoring himself in a delicate balance of Afrobeat-inflected Pop and global aesthetics, turned it into one of, if not the best, defining albums of this decade in contemporary African music.
The album’s impact reverberated across the globe—selling out arenas, landing Grammy nominations, and cementing his reputation as a global force.
But success brings its own challenges. By contrast, More Love, Less Ego, his 2022 follow-up, struggled to find its footing. The project seemed burdened by a singular sonic direction that lacked the dynamism fans had come to expect. The result was a collection of tracks that, while polished, leaned into a singular, muted sonic palette that failed to match the expansiveness of its predecessor—Made in Lagos. Critics called it a misstep, and even the promotional blitz couldn’t salvage its lukewarm reception.
After a relatively quiet period, tragedy reframed the narrative. In August 2023, the death of his mother, Morayo Balogun, marked a seismic shift in his life and, inevitably, his music. Four months later, he returned with a brief project, S2, a four-track EP that bridged the silence while he processed his grief.
The music hinted at a deeper emotional well, particularly on “IDK” where he tapped Street-Hop star, Zlatan. Still, it wasn’t until he announced Morayo, his newest full-length project, that it became clear where his focus was shifting.
With the weight of anticipation and a deeply personal muse—his late mother—Morayo arrives at a crucial juncture. For fans and followers of his journey, the stakes are high—not because Wizkid has to prove himself, but because he’s choosing to open a part of his world that has, until now, remained private.
Fuji’s imprint on Afro-Pop runs deep, and on the album opener, “Troubled Mind”, Wizkid taps into that lineage with intent. It begins with K1 De Ultimate’s live performance at his mother’s burial, a symbolic nod to cultural memory and personal grief.
Wizkid’s chorus is unadorned yet piercing: “Say, the blood for my eye and the pain for my mind, mo le shalaye/ Yeah, I dey choko, I dey nice, omo, me I just dey maintain/ I got a troubled mind (Ooh)/ I got a troubled mind (Troubled mind)”.
The imagery is stark—‘blood for my eye’ and ‘pain for my mind’—while ‘mo le shalaye’ asserts an unspoken weight. The lines are both a lament and a declaration of resilience, encapsulating the album’s core: grief wrapped in defiance.
If “Troubled Mind” dwells on personal grief, “Karamo” offers a vibrant counterpoint, steering Morayo towards moments of communal joy. The verses glide over a rhythm of ease and confidence, where the search for peace of mind meets the exuberance of material success. Yet, it’s the chorus that truly carries the song’s essence: “Ijo wa leese, baby Shalewa, redi ko lole, Oh my sisi, no karamo, oh”.
“Kese (Dance)” feels like a full-circle moment for Wizkid, harking back to 2013’s “Azonto”, when he leaned into Ghana’s kinetic dance wave to craft one of his most energetic cuts. Back then, “Azonto” was a zeitgeist-defining anthem, and on Morayo, “Kese (Dance)” revisits that spirit with the maturity of a global artiste who understands the enduring power of movement. “Dance (Gbedu)/ Chale, make we dance (Gbedu)”.
The lyrics are spare, almost chant-like, designed to amplify the song’s rhythm rather than overshadow it. With ‘Chale’, a nod to Ghanaian slang, Wizkid subtly weaves his pan-African influences, balancing his Nigerian core with the continental appeal he’s perfected over the years.
“Bad Girl” sees Wizkid and Asake build on the synergy they first unveiled on “MMS” from Asake’s third album, Lungu Boy, but this time, the balance tilts toward Asake’s turf. The track leans heavily on Asake’s signature flow, with its blend of Yoruba ad-libs, chant-like melodies, and streetwise charm, creating a backdrop for Wizkid to adapt to.
The opening lines set the tone: “Bad girl from Barbados, if you do my own/ I gat you La-do-mi-re-mi-re-do, body natural, I no care”. While the lyrics carry Wizkid’s familiar mix of soft glamour and understated flexes, it is Asake’s dynamic cadence that drives the song.
“Time” is Morayo’s sensual pivot, a love song where Wizkid luxuriates in intimacy with an elegance that feels effortless. Wizkid’s delivery is hushed, almost confessional, letting the minimalism of the words heighten the mood.
On “Piece of My Heart”, Wizkid and Brent Faiyaz coalesce a delicate duet that balances vulnerability and reassurance. It’s not about grand declarations but quiet affirmations, where love is both tender and enduring.
“Break Me Down” finds Wizkid in pursuit, blending desire and urgency with a touch of emotional vulnerability. The track thrives on its playful energy, with lyrics that capture the thrill and the intensity of connection with the lady she sings about.
“Bend” is Wizkid in his element, delivering a playful, dance floor-ready anthem with an effortless allure. The repetition of the hook—“Bend your body, Ko jo (Oh, my God)/ Omoge, make you denge, go dey pose”—works like a mantra, commanding body movement while doubling as a flirtatious invitation on the dancefloor. It’s a prime example of how Wizkid uses simplicity to amplify his rhythm and let the groove take center stage.
Wizkid at his most reflective on “A Million Blessings”, a meditation on growth wrapped in understated flexes. The opening verse is introspective, quietly asserting his perseverance: “They’re gonna think I’m insane, if I really speak on it/ I just dey my lane, I dey pray for so many days”.
By the time he slides into the pre-chorus, the narrative shifts from struggle to triumph: “Omoge why I no go flex, blessings dey fall like water for my head/ A couple milli’ on my neck, I’m shining, mummy, grinding, you know me”.
“Après Minuit” is a sensual celebration of connection, love, and intimacy, blending Wizkid’s laid-back allure with Tiakola’s smooth French lyrics. The track captures the essence of a late-night rendezvous.
Wizkid’s opening verse sets the tone, balancing tenderness with desire: “Girl the way you, girl the way you do me right/ Wey dey do me nice, I know, yeah/ Say, I’ve been calling and calling, ’cause I know say your love na confirm”.
He’s calm, but the emotion is palpable. Despite the distractions around him, it’s clear who holds his attention. Tiakola then takes over in the pre-chorus, his French verses elevating the song’s intimacy.
“Bad For You” pairs Wizkid with seasoned American singer and songwriter, Jazmine Sullivan, in a sultry duet that drips with sensuality and emotional conflict. Sullivan’s chorus sets the tone, her voice rich with longing.
“Soji” kicks with a delivery that is intimate which captures the essence of youthful love and carefree connection. The opening verse reflects nostalgia: “Every single day, I’m with you, You remind me of the good times”.
“Don’t Care” stands as an anthem of self-assurance, where he lays bare his unshakable belief in his destiny, celebrating the peace that comes from trusting the process and ignoring distractions. The chorus only amplifies that calm defiance: “Many come and go but I dey live my life on low/ Living life, I don’t care, living like, I don’t care”.
“Slow” sees Wizkid and Anaïs Cardot crafting a sensual and introspective ballad that luxuriates in the quiet complexities of love. Built on understated rhythms and poignant lyricism, the track leans heavily into its emotive core, with Anaïs’s ethereal delivery setting a reflective tone.
“Lose” is one of Morayo’s most introspective moments, a song that finds Wizkid navigating the weight of absence and the relentless pursuit of better days. The opening, carried by a ghostly feminine voice: “I wish you were/ I’m wishing, I’m wishing you were still here”.
It sets the tone for a track that feels like both a tribute and a testament to resilience. Wizkid’s chorus is a quiet prayer: “Run my race, yeah, I gotta run my race, yeah/ Elédùmarè, reduce my stress/ ‘’m the goon for the blessings”.
“Pray” is the perfect bookend to Morayo. It closes with the weight of reflection and the lightness of gratitude, encapsulating Wizkid’s journey. The opening verse places us in the thick of his early struggles: “Remember time when the money no dey come quick?/ All of a sudden, see as dem dey rush me”. The chorus is the heart of the song, a solemn verse steeped in faith: “I know my mama pray for me/ And I know the heavens dey for me/ And Jah make a way for me”.
Wizkid has long had an acquired taste for lush and velvety productions and arrangements, and this is particularly evident on Morayo. He retains some of the sonic sensibilities that characterised previous works like Made in Lagos and More Love Less Ego. However, while one gets the sense that the superstar is offering the familiar, he also explores different sonic pockets, making the project as experimental as necessary.
It comes as no surprise that Wizkid taps seasoned collaborator P2J, who takes charge of the production on 14 of the 16 tracks. While P.Priime, Brent Faiyaz, DAMEDAME*, and other contributors earn production and sound mixing credits, it’s evident that the overall sonic palette is shouldered by P2J.
It is against this backdrop that Wizkid effortlessly layers his vocals. Tracks like “Troubled Mind” and “Kese (Dance)” serve up traditional drums paired with contemporary, soft pads, rich saxophones, and groovy basslines. Sparks of brilliance emerge on tracks like “Time”, “Peace of My Heart”, and “Break Me Down”, featuring productions that bring quintessential Wizkid to the fore. Meanwhile, “Bend” is a sonic reenactment of the artiste in the 2010s.
In some instances, the production is given just enough prominence to diversify Morayo’s soundscapes. Tracks like “Après Minuit”, “Bad for You”, “Slow”, and “Pray” embrace R&B sensibilities while delivering groovy mid-tempo Afro-Pop numbers.
While he typically emphasises laid-back vocals and melodies, on Morayo, one gets the sense that he has something to prove. Throughout the album, he seeks to bring out the colour in his vocals, whether he’s delving into lust and desire in detail or riding the waves of escapism. That said, the mixing deserves credit for striking a fine balance between his vocals and the production, ensuring neither overshadows the other.
For an artiste whose recent projects have not been remarkably received, Morayo was a make-or-mar moment for him. He draws on his wealth of experience, merging the formative Wizkid with his current global artiste status. If anyone was ever in doubt, the opening two tracks quickly dispel such doubts. For the first time, he was clear; fans could hear what he was saying, and he wasn’t crooning or pandering to the Western audience.
Interestingly, there are better tracks on the album that are more sonically well-rounded than the two lead singles he released. While he hasn’t fully moved past the demise of his beloved mother, he consciously steers the audience away from the topic, only touching on it briefly, confessing the pain her loss has caused him.
The audience will likely want to spin Morayo again. While some tracks are skippable, the beautiful renditions and sophisticated production are hard to ignore.
That said, many of the themes explored often feel repetitive—love, desire, and celebration. When Wizkid sings about love, he rarely explores new angles, often repeating the same themes over different beat patterns. At times, he struggles to stay on topic.
In all, Morayo is a compelling blend of personal reflection, cultural homage, and sonic experimentation. While it doesn’t entirely escape the pitfalls of thematic repetition, the album successfully captures the essence of Wizkid’s evolution as a superstar. With its lush production, deeply personal moments, and a return to clarity in his delivery, Morayo reinforces his position as a dominant force in Afro-Pop.
Lyricism – 1.5
Tracklisting – 1.5
Listening Experience – 1.6
Sound Engineering – 1.7
Vocalisation – 1.5
Rating – 7.8/10
Emmanuel ‘Waziri’ Okoro is a content writer and journalist with an insatiable knack for music and pop culture. When he’s not writing, you will find him arguing why Arsenal FC is the best football club in the multiverse. Connect with him on X, Instagram, and Threads: @BughiLorde
Listed twice by “Black Pride Magazine” as one of the top 5 Music Journalists in Nigeria, Emmanuel Daraloye has over 600 album reviews in his archive.
Abioye Damilare is a music journalist and culture writer focused on the African entertainment Industry. Reading new publications and listening to music are two of his favourite pastimes when he is not writing. Connect with him on Twitter and IG: @Dreyschronicle