Aadae
Agape EP

A new wave of highlife is desirable, it would be unanimously well-received, much like the recent return of high-waisted pants in women's wardrobes.

The prerequisites, in the form of underground cultural movements, are not lacking: the afrobeat night remains mandatory even here, in the province of everything (TT), and persists despite the strong emergence of cumbia on the scene (*). An empirical statement, but one I imagine can be verified. There have also been programmatic, if not explicitly theoretical, experiences, such as the Meditations On Afrocentrism by the usually excellent Ninjatune producer Romare.
Yet, the popularity of highlife fails to extend, semantically, from roots to pop (**); pop that, in lieu of the rhythmic and melodic frenzy of afro, prefers slow waves and long basses, while it robs black voices of their rich nuances to make them technologically calibrated embellishments, if not to flatten them and make carpets of them, like taking bebop trumpets and melting them together to forge a trombone that only plays tonics and fifths. In short, I would hope it reads without connotations that roots and pop, as much as they are popular, are traveling in parallel symmetry on the black axis.

*Despite (and not by virtue of) the endorsement of a dubiously tasteful character like Davide Toffolo, badly donned for cumbia and promoter of initiatives under the banner of the Italian Cumbia Institute.
**Sticazzi.

If instead they were traveling on a collision course, if these black opposites could merge into a single, powerful black, then perhaps it would open up a course of productions that would sound - to say it in chorus with my friend Sbem!, so nicknamed for his typical way of highlighting manifest beauty and expressing general éclat - sbem!.

Aadae's EP would seem, on paper, to meet such requirements.
London singer-songwriter, Nigerian roots; contemporary black vocals, very radio-friendly soul harmonies; two memorable choruses over five songs, and at debut; electronic decorations and played structures, and vice versa. The declared intent is to combine a passion for pop-soul performers and the music of her roots.
At times, intentions pay off: the ascending brass pattern on Flatline and the catchy vocal line of River Of Tears in a dense counterpoint of percussions, clicks, and muted guitars would tease any palate, over those classic highlife syncopated snare drums. With the distant timbre of a Jazz that when it finally arrives on smooth string, in Die Happy, is a godsend.

That something, and not a small thing, is missing, however, is perceived. A crystal-clear vocal talent is missing, even though Aadae is on point and very educated. But a crystal-clear vocal talent can be done without when there are happy compositional inspirations, absent here, and one dares in interpretation, which Aadae does not do.
Highlife is supported by the chorality, by a warm sense of communion among musicians (an agape), which I cannot feel on this record; or by the class, the spirit of the single performer: they do not emerge.

Ultimately, an interesting project remains, a good intention that needs better developments. Valid, but not much beyond being just slightly less bad than regimented neo-soul, while Sbem! pretends to like yerba mate tea and we all wait.