Tems was born in candlelight. “There was no electricity when my mom gave birth to me,” she told NPR. “It was night in my life for so long that, like, I just thought it was never coming.” Twenty-eight years later, the Grammy-winning Nigerian artist finds herself in the glare of the global spotlight. Born in the Wild revisits the shadows with clarity and confidence. In her earlier EPs, the Afro-fusion singer revealed her spellbinding prowess; with her debut full-length, she re-asserts herself as an imaginative producer and the author of her own lore.
Tems remains her own sole songwriter, confronting the pressures of stardom through a tender, melancholic exploration of pre-fame traumas. Each song evokes a kaleidoscope of emotions, but whether addressing a higher power (“Me & U”) or reflecting on an ill-fated romance (“Unfortunate”), Tems remains focused on gratitude. On the acoustic guitar-guided opener and title track, her voice emerges as if she’s singing beside a dying campfire, piano twinkling in the sky above.
Distilling her music to its essence, Born in the Wild opts for a stripped-down ’90s vibe, affording Tems the serenity to explore her innermost thoughts. Tems self-produced much of the LP alongside GuityBeatz, the Ghanaian Afropop DJ behind her 2021 EP If Orange Was a Place. The polyrhythmic soundscape, adorned with the earthy tones of conga drums, wind chimes, and shekere rattles, provides a counterweight to the homogenized sound of contemporary Afropop.
In songs like “Love Me JeJe” and the Diana King-interpolating “Gangsta,” she marries vintage African music with modern R&B, dancehall, and pop, writing a love letter to the past and a message for the future. The latter song is a sparkly refresh of Nigerian singer Seyi Sodimu’s 1997 call-and-response classic: “All the old heads in Nigeria, they looove this song,” she said during a recent Tiny Desk concert. “Wickedest” features a sample from Ivorian quartet Magic System’s “1er Gaou”—an iconic zouglou hit from the early aughts that triggers memories for Africans everywhere.
Tems’ unembellished arrangements feel old-school and lived-in. Accompanied by jazz fusion guitarist Nsikak David on “Boy O Boy,” she conjures an ambiance of solitude as lavish as a hotel lounge ensconced in velvet. On standout “Burning,” she processes her inner turmoil in a lilting singsong, letting her vocals become the luminous core of the music. On “Forever,” which is produced by Brummie duo DAMEDAME* but sounds like a Kaytranada groove, Tems’ bassy timbre ascends to a floaty falsetto reminiscent of a young Michael Jackson. She channels 50 Cent and Lauryn Hill for the hip-hop track “T-Unit,” flexing her rap skills while staying true to the album’s melancholic mood.