The Year I Turned 21
In a moment when Afrobeats is going through a very public identity crisis (many of its overwhelmingly male stars are rejecting the genre for a multitude of reasons, some valid, some not), Ayra Starr is doubling down as a proud and worthy ambassador of the genre with the release of her sophomore album, The Year I Turned 21.
The album showcases the young star at her strongest (so far) artistically and her most vulnerable personally. The Year I Turned 21 is meant to be a time capsule, one that documents the turbulence and emotional whirlwind of her official arrival into adulthood. Musically, Ayra is more grounded here, more focused than in her debut. Her team of producers— including London, Louddaaa, and AOD—deftly meld a variety of genres together including Afrobeats, highlife, amapiano, R&B, jazz, reggaeton, and pop to create a backdrop against which Ayra shines brightly. She experiments with sounds not present in her debut and while it may be too early for her to have a signature production style, she simply does not need one. Her voice is undeniable, stamping each record with a sauce only she has the recipe for. The production is good, which makes the decision to make almost every song less than three minutes long particularly baffling. While short songs may increase replay value which boosts streaming numbers, they don’t feel fully ‘finished’, many coming to an end when they should be expanding. Two-minute songs have their place, don’t get me wrong, but sorry! Bring back bridges! Bring back double choruses or dance breaks, even! The listener can take it, I promise.
Ayra’s writing is stronger this time around too, as she tackles themes surrounding love and romance, heartbreak, identity, fame, and grief with an easy finesse. Her lyrics feel more autobiographical, and she wears her new age and experiences on her sleeve, their contradictions exposed to the world. In “Bad Vibes”, she talks her shit [“To be real, I’m still eating off my last hit”], then doubts herself almost immediately in “1942” [“scared that maybe one day I might lose it all”]. She’s ready to start a family with a new love in “Lagos Love Story” [“let’s make babies, we’re still young but I dey ready”], then rejects the idea of a partner all together in “Last Heartbreak Song” [”I’ll be better on my own”]. She wrestles with dark thoughts in “Orun” [“I wish I didn’t wake today but no, I’ve gotta face my pain”], but is resolved to fight another day in “Birds Sing of Money” [“I run my city, run my life, run my mind, but I never run away”]. Emotionally, she’s all over the place, it’s true, and she’s not subtle about it. But we know why: it’s because she’s literally 21.
There are no objectively bad songs, but standouts for me include “Rhythm and Blues”, “Goodbye (Warm Up)” ft. Asake, and “Woman Commando” ft. Anitta and Coco Jones. The latter two reveal Starr’s ability to mesh with her featured artists without being overpowered or overpowering them, a skill that cannot be overstated. I would be remiss if I didn’t mention the penultimate track, “The Kids Are All Right”. Easily the most emotional track of the project, the song features voice messages from Ayra’s mom telling Ayra to learn from her deceased father’s mistakes and to enjoy the fruit of her labor while she can, along with Ayra and her siblings leaving messages for their father, catching him up on their lives. Ayra’s dad’s passing and her desire to heed the words of her mother serve as an undercurrent, providing necessary context for and adding depth to Ayra’s emotional state throughout the project. It is a beautiful moment that has brought me to tears each time I’ve heard it (three, so far).
The Year I Turned 21 is a more-than-solid offering from Nigeria’s next Afrobeats superstar. The project does what Ayra intended, with an impressive level of self-assuredness and features more highs than lows. Now, Ayra might be too young to know who she is fully, but she definitely knows who she is right now. And she stands tall in it! There is power in being exactly who you are exactly when you are but still leaving room for personal evolution. Ayra isn’t a veteran yet, but she is clearly on her way. In many ways, she’s what the Afrobeats genre needs today. Where other artists might waiver, Ayra says it best herself— “I don’t watch my tone ‘cause I like how I sound, bitch!” And, you know what? As she should!