Two days ago, Asake released his first single of the year, Why Love, marking the start of a new phase he has called his “military era.” This comes days after Rema and Ayra, each released their respective debut singles of the year, similarly marking the start of new chapters in their careers. Rema’s Baby, which samples Sade’s Is it a Crime, decidedly departs from the frenetic energy of his sophomore album, Heis, instead inhabiting a cool, breezy atmosphere that evokes the feeling of a warm summer day at the beach. Ayra Starr’s latest offering All The Love, provides less of a contrast than Rema’s, but it still evidently departs from the soundscape of its predecessor, leaning closely into the flavor of Alternative RnB that undergirds SZA’s Ctrl.
In light of three of Afropop’s vanguard having summarily drawn the curtains on chapters they commenced last year, certain questions come to the fore. What does this say about the shelf life of the average Afropop album and why are pop stars increasingly choosing to forge ahead with new eras and albums as opposed to savoring existing ones, taking measured strides to maximize existing projects to the utmost before moving on?
Asake’s Lungu Boy, even after a number of promotional runs and music video rollouts for songs on the project, is still strewn with several potential hits—Fuji Vibe, Ligali, Mentally, and Uhh Yeahh, to name a few—that have yet to receive the promotional push they deserve. Even without a concerted effort to promote these songs, they’ve already gathered a considerable amount of stream. Fuji Vibe for example was part of the array of songs that soundtracked Detty December, its infectious Fuji drums signaling a palpable shift in the vibe of a party. One can only imagine the prospects that stand to be unlocked if they receive the promotional treatment they deserve. He recently parted ways with his label and management. In light of that, it’s not far-fetched to theorize that his thinking with turning the page on a new era is that it’s perhaps a great way to consolidate his move.
Ayra Starr’s sophomore album is similarly speckled with jewels. Rema’s situation is slightly peculiar. Heis is composed of 10 tracks, five of which have music videos and have received promotional treatment. But one could also argue for the potential of deep cuts like Villain, War Machine, and Heis. For all his meta-narratives of wanting to defend Afrobeats from foreign incursion by creating freewheeling music that leans into traditional Afrobeats, he has been eager to move on from his Heis era. Perhaps this is on account of Heis’ middling commercial performance despite its immense cultural impact.
The truth is that the questions this piece poses are not nearly new. In the past few years, we’ve seen the album release cycle of Afropop ramp up with increasing urgency. A Culture Custodian essay released last year addresses these questions with astute clarity. On account of the rise of short-form content and social media, attention spans have been significantly diminished. But it’s not just that, the deluge of content—everything from music to movies—audiences are inundated with has rendered them less excitable. There’s also the issue of the finite nature of time: with a fixed number of hours in any given day, there’s only so much content one can consume.
Artists are aware of these constraints and try to rail against them by releasing music frequently to remain in the conversation. But this quick-fire release cycle comes at a cost—burnout for decreased innovation for the artist, to name a few. It’s clear that this release cycle is not sustainable in the long run, but with artists, their management, and stakeholders being clearly unconcerned about making adjustments to map out a sustainable path, only time can tell what the future holds.
