No more your freaking bullsh*t!

The exact way a song on Asa (her debut album) would not have started. It’s the first phrase you hear on this album. You are taken aback at first, but as the percussions come in, you think of those people who have betrayed you in the past and can totally relate when she goes even harder on them (you really are a fool. . . you’re the devil insane). Dead again is arguably a good start to the album and its energy and vibrancy is bound to grow on you. Eyo is probably the catchiest song on the album. An amazing version of the popular anthem synonymous with the Lagos festival, if you’re abroad you would want to take the next flight home. Damn the generator noise, bad roads or insecurity; maybe not “everybody cares for one another and takes you as their brother”, but the rhythm is guaranteed to hit you with an outstanding force of home-longing too hard to ignore. It is here we first hear Blair’s back-up vocals. It has a magical feel to it, the supporting role it plays, and when he sings the word – Eyo – with so much soul, whoa!

“They came inside without a sound. . . I know my life will never be the same”. Moving on explores the devastating consequences of rape; its facets of violation that transcend the physical. Asa delivers this masterpiece (Big ups to the lyrics of omolara and Asa) with the intensity the subject requires and the uplifting message of triumph in spite of pain is reassuring in its sincerity and optimism – perhaps the most powerful and emotional song on the album.

The ‘problem’ with grateful is that she starts off singing in Yoruba. See, let me explain. When Asa starts a song in Yoruba, I’m sold. No, really I don’t even wait to listen to the rest of the song. I’m not sure what the secret is (the deliberate pronunciations, proverbs or often dry humour?) but they are always epic. And so, grateful follows in the footsteps of Awe, Eye adaba, Bimpe and broda ole in that hall of fame. This is the song i would have wanted to be in the studio during the recording. Listen with really good headphones and you hear (no, feel) the background chants/claps/whistles.

Ife is the one I was waiting to hear. You know, the Bibanke-baby gone-esque song. The sad love song accompanied by the most sublime of strings. . the one you play the imaginary violin to. The one you stay in bed and cry to if you just had a heartbreak. Like baby gone, you know it’s going to be the hidden gem of the album, not as popular as it should be, to be savoured by you and a few others. Asa – no, Bukola – is raw here (no back-up vocals too!) as she pleads for her love (ife) to come back home. Ife is going to be on repeat on many nights. In the one that never comes, she is caught off guard when a friend tells her they’ve fallen for her. “Please don’t tell me you love me ‘cos I’ve been waiting all along for the one that never comes”. . basically friend-zoning them (haha). A soulful end to the album, Asa’s vocals here are amazing still with yet again super backing vocals and instruments.

Through it all, she switches from fierce (satan be gone, society) to vulnerable (bed of stone, how did love find me) to triumphant (moving on) in an effortless matrimony of various musical styles, while maintaining the distinctive Asa sound. Beautiful imperfection was an awesome album (Baby gone, broda ole, ore, bimpe. . need I say more?). However, Asa had set some celestial standards with her debut album. Heights that seemed humanly impossible to surpass and a sophomore was bound to have a tough task living up to it. But Bed of stone cuts it. It hits it. Asa brings her A-game here, complete with full armour, guns smoking!

The question is – should you buy it? The answer – Really? Is that a serious question or are you just being funny?

Album gets 10 over 10 from me