Society is always looking for a palatable tag, mainly one that can be definitive, even if classification is a disservice to what it’s trying to neatly wrap. This has been the case with so-called “alté” generation, a group of young artists driven and tied together by adventurousness and experimental approach to their craft, leading to music and imagery with a keen difference to what dominates the mainstream. The music obviously differs from artist to artist, but with a rebellious through line to grasp at, alté was the chosen term to box the sprawl. (At least it’s better than “SoundCloud artists.”)
Although the initial reaction was to wriggle, as is expected with unwanted monikers, leaning into it in order to control the narrative is what’s happened in recent months. In March of this year, Odunsi (the Engine), Zamir and Santi came together for “alté cruise,” a breezy 3-minute ode to their equal parts burgeoning and flourishing subculture, complete with a woozy and potent video that has assisted in reaching cult classic level.
As a light-hearted but sweeping declaration, it also makes sense that “alté cruise” is fixed at the rear of Odunsi’s new debut album rare. For context, Odunsi is looked at as one of, if not the, a few defacto faces of the subculture since his EP Time Of Our Lives hit in 2016. While the music had it’s own unique bent, there was an outer warmth to T.O.O.L that was infinitely more open-ended in comparison with the music from other artists of his supposed class, making Odunsi the pop figure of the defiant bunch in the process. As such, rare. is consequential both for Odunsi and what he implicitly represents, and “alté cruise” serves as the best capper to rare., a full length that’s dually introductory and celebratory.
At the young age of 22, it’s easy to romanticize Odunsi’s rise, but he’s had his own fair share of obstacles, and he briefly spotlights them on rare., albeit potently. Dropping out of high school after being diagnosed with ADHD and unable to find joy in the classroom, turning to music has provided Odunsi with an identity, one that he’s buzzed about on the anthemic “outcast.” Preceding that on the album is the Le Mav-produced “take me there,” slightly veiled as a love duet, where Odunsi balls up overwhelming grimness in the opening moments, before London based singer Hamzaa brightens things up, radiantly interjecting with her soulful and sinewy voice. With the addition of an Idris King interview excerpt relating Odunsi’s summery disposition these days, “take me there” acts as the apt precursor to the swaddling brightness of “outcast.”
Beyond “take a break” – a slow burner on which Odunsi examines the strain of his career path on close relationships, including addressing his mum in cutely butchered Yoruba – there’s no other expressly autobiographical moment, and this relative sparseness allows the significance of those cuts to waft across the other songs. Also, with the implied aura that is Odunsi finding his place in the world through music, the glossy sheen of rare. isn’t as innocuous as many run-of-the-mill pop albums that have joy as their centrepiece.
On the surface of it, there’s not much by way of a strong narrative, but the strength of rare. is in how straightforward it is. Even the songwriting is quite linear, and it works more often than not. Odunsi is not the most innovative while working with words, but he’s very expressive, which happens to be the right fit to assuage the frailties of his voice. The warbly ring in Odunsi’s voice is like sitting through to a slightly buzzed person sing at a karaoke night, and while it won’t punch listeners in the gut, combining it with somewhat lyrically simple songs and slight, saccharine melodies creates a listlessness that’s often effective and loveable, whether he’s submerged underneath the production (“wanted you”) or moonwalking across it (“divine”).
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KeoHBVhxQRw
A prominent highlight of rare. is how well it showcases Odunsi as an auteur, especially as regards sound design. Predictably, rare. is a notable departure, not a total abandonment, though, from contemporary Afro-Pop. Featuring contributions from half a dozen producers, including multiple credits to Odunsi himself, and drawing major inspiration from 80s Disco music and 90s R&B, the sonic canvas is retro-of-the-moment, sophisticated and clearly held together by a DIY mentality. From the sleek, ballroom disco-funk of “falling,” to the soothing quiet storm/R&B that is “angel” and the glitzy 4/4 disco beat with highlife guitars that propels the Runtown-assisted standout “star signs,” rare. displays Odunsi’s eclectic choices without sacrificing cohesion.
Odunsi handles primary vocal duties on his own on less than half the songs on rare., and his stellar curative ability extends into the selection of features. Finding the middle ground between his vision and the stylistic preference of his guests, Odunsi places artists in spots where they work best while the songs still sound like they very much belong on an Odunsi album. Davido’s appearance on pre-released single “divine” emphasizes his voice via the call-and-response hook with Sola king; South African rapper Nasty C delivers a jiggy singing performance for “express”; Duendita’s smoky vocals perfectly contrasts Odunsi’s wispy singing on “angel”; and the trio of 234Jaydaa, Amaarae and Solis wraps the old-school groove of “hectic” with sensual warmth.
For an album with so much communal influx, rare. is as much a victory to Odunsi as it is to the alté scene. It’s Odunsi’s time, and nobody can tell him nothing.