There’s more than meets the eye and/or greets the ears, initially, with PrettyBoyDO. At last year’s Palmwine Music Fest, D-O came on stage for a short two-song set, performing his breakout single “Footwork” last to warm reception. On the night, I could see the appeal of the buzz surrounding him, but I still wasn’t very convinced. “Footwork,” a zippy dancehall record with a raucous, skeletal beat suitable for a buzzing party in a cabana, showcased an artist who had an improving ability at spinning slanguage into enjoyable songs. It’s a very likeable song that doesn’t exactly peg D-O as a compelling artist, which is how he comes across as on Everything Pretty, his newly released debut mixtape.
“Footwork” is the final song on Everything Pretty, but by the time you get to it on the project, it becomes clear why the Plugg Records marquee signing is held in high regard by fans and alté colleagues alike.
D-O is an unassuming composite artist, he’s got a ragga/rap fusion that easily comes across as fluid and seasoned, versatility with a refined edge which serves him quite well. Add a superb ear for beats and delightfully catchy songwriting, Everything Pretty works way more than it initially has the right to in its quarter-shy-of-an-hour runtime.
Everything Pretty opens with a prayer from D-O’s mother – it’s not explicitly stated but I’m assuming the voice is his mother’s because of the warmth and passion with which she invokes St. Raphael – on “The Motto,” before D-O rolls in with his own litany of hailings and seamlessly starts whipping his way through the fluid, Caribbean trap beat. “The Motto” is D-O’s statement track, waving his flag of intent on the hook in the most succinct and millennial way possible: “the money is the motto.” Shuffling between tones, as he does throughout the tape, from nasally singing to low growling raps, D-O’s ambition is ever present as he sings “came from the back and I gotta make it,” while also setting the tone for the tape in the process.
D-O’s biggest sell is his personality—he has a boatload of charisma that’s visible even from afar—and it shows on Everything Pretty. On the Santi assisted “Pull Up,” D-O lays out threats that are quite simple on paper, but in performance carry gravitas. When he raps “only focused on me bread/me no want trouble for me head,”there are no explicit details, but it implies “I’m on my lane but anyone can get it if they disturb” with some heft attached to – the best threats are the one delivered offhandedly. The same robustness is easily noticed on standout song “Rabba Man,” where D-O serrates his way through sinister, bass-heavy production. Assisted by Esojay Luciano, who snarls and snaps on his verse, “Rabba Man” is a stacked to the brim with grade-A stunts powered by non-sequiturs (“used to treat me like a loafer/now my bread be popping like a toaster” “the money dey talk, no be by mouth/the diamonds is clear, I’m clearing your doubts”), but it’s the larger than life energy with which both artists deliver each line that provides magnetism.
As a body of work that mostly deals with expression, Everything Pretty is a pretty much self-involved affair, but D-O isn’t oblivious to his outer society. As a young man trying to navigate his way to the top in an obstacle-filled country, D-O balls up his gripes into pure and unbridled rage at Nigeria’s social condition on the earlier released “Chop Elbow.” Pulling in a Falz verse teeming with the rapper’s usual mix of righteous anger and comedic edge for the tape’s version, “Chop Elbow” is a fantastic piece of social documentary that works because both D-O and Falz are not on any soapbox, they are both citizens trying to work around a broken system while also flipping said system the bird. Although it also acts as the bottleneck moment for the numerous “fuck po-po” moments on the tape, “Chop Elbow” remains a D-O song because it still heavily relies on his boisterous persona, and the beat is just bonkers.
Beyond the pervading machismo, D-O can also be transparent and quite emotionally aware. There’s a quick line about his sour relationship with his dad on the aforementioned “Rabba Man” that’s easy to miss on the first listen, the type of stained, lived-in honesty that contrasts and brightens his heads up in the clouds lines. Elsewhere on “Pata Pata (No Drama),” D-O relates that “my papa say I need to go school/my mama say you need to know book,” using the guidance and earlier objections of his parents to frame boasts of his come up on latter lines. But the emotional centrepiece of Everything Pretty comes via “No Wahala,” on which D-O rebuffs the distractions of backstabbing acquaintances from the past, recounts the days when teachers used to seize his phone, and also laments his dead homies and incarcerated friends. It’s a rare moment of outright introspection, but D-O still retains his charisma.
There are more than a handful of songs on Everything Pretty that delve into D-O’s sexual prowess, but even at his most lascivious, he’s barely ever crass, which is as refreshing as it can be surprising. Even when he blurts out “50 women for my iPhone” on the hook for “Rabba Man,” it’s a nod to his playboy ways that doesn’t resort to degrading women. When it comes to writing and singing about sex, D-O is especially vivid, so much so that he’s able to spin sexts into raunchy lyrics without being tasteless (“Shawn Michael”). On the two-sided “Awilo (Meow Song),” D-O is jarringly explicit, detailing pillow-biting and screams “like an asthma attack” – the type of songs that personifies doing nasty bedroom things, but just as friends, though.
Listening to D-O on Everything Pretty reminds me of Manchester City footballer Benjamin Mendy, in that they both seem to radiate joy because they genuinely love for what, while also bearing high skill level that can only be fully appreciated over time, or in this case, over the course of a project. Everything Pretty is a testament to the hype, show and tell for why D-O is one of the leaders of the new school artists who keep on breaking the rules while writing their own success.