“The Year I Turned 21” skillfully achieves a balance often missed by second albums. Ayra builds on the personal tone of her debut, introducing new collaborators who greatly enrich her musical domain while remaining faithful to her Afrobeats origins.
Ayra Starr always seemed destined for stardom. Her first album, ’19 & Dangerous,’ showcased a confident young talent gracefully bridging the gap between teenage years and adulthood. The album gave rise to two worldwide hits: “Bloody Samaritan,” which was remixed by R&B icon Kelly Rowland, and the Grammy-nominated “Rush,” catapulting Ayra Starr from national fame to the status of global Afrobeats icon.
‘The Year I Turned 21’ Escapes the Sophomore Slump
In The Year I Turned 21, Ayra Starr embraces her evolving status by securing high-profile collaborations. These partnerships allow her to boldly mix various genres and languages, enriching her artistic exploration of grief, heartbreak, empowerment, and maturity. Her approach to music is a fearless journey through a spectrum of emotions and experiences, marking her growth as an artist.
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With her rich, deep tone as her most formidable asset, Ayra delves into her rap repertoire with the fiery album opener “Birds Sing of Money.” The track, crafted by London and Marvey Again, fuses emotive strings with a boom-bap influenced beat and a melodic Fújì (a Yoruba musical genre) introduction, setting the stage for the album’s fluid mix of diverse sounds from the Black diaspora. Her declaration, “I run my city, run my life, run my mind, but I never run away/ I’m so careful with my energy, please never speak upon my name,” exudes a cool, confident charisma born from weathering her teenage years. Echoing Rihanna’s audacious “Bitch Better Have My Money,” “Birds” emerges as an anthem for empowered women, its dynamic spirit pulsating through many of the album’s songs.
Ayra Starr’s pre-release singles “Commas” and “Bad Vibes,” featuring Seyi Vibez, keep her on the money-making and energy-preserving track. Yet, she spins a fresh angle on these themes in “Control” and “Woman Commando.” In “Control,” she turns the concept of female submission on its head, crooning for a man to step up and respond to her flirtatious signals with “You know my lips don’t lie/ I want you to take control,” giving a nod to Shakira’s iconic line.
In this multilingual musical mash-up, Grammy buddies Coco Jones and Anitta join forces with Ayra to belt out a women-empowerment banger. With a chorus about ladies owning the night and ditching the astrological small talk, the song’s beat is as infectious as it is insistent, thanks to those thumping log drums. While star-studded collabs often buckle like an overloaded burrito, this trio’s tune stays crunchy; Coco’s velvety vocals blend with Ayra’s like chocolate and peanut butter, and Anitta’s nonchalant style adds just the right amount of spice to their sonic fiesta.
Indeed, Ayra’s The Year I Turned 21, is a rollercoaster of anthems celebrating self-reliance and tunes delving into the more shadowy corners of her early twenties. It’s a musical journey through love’s highs and lows, with tracks like the Asake-powered “Goodbye,” the enchanting “Lagos Love Story,” and the Giveon-collab “Last Heartbreak Song” painting a vivid triptych of emotion. “Goodbye” weaves Afropop with amapiano beats, setting the stage for a duet between two lovers realizing they’re on different wavelengths. It’s a sophisticated spin on romance compared to the starry-eyed serenade of “Lagos Love Story,” which boasts one of the year’s most captivating hooks: “Let’s make babies/ We’re still young, but I dey ready/ Smoke some weed at the beach/ I feel ease when I’m with you/ Prayed Ciara’s prayer, God came through,” delivered with a radiant smile that could light up the recording booth.
Ayra’s songwriting is like a breath of fresh air, always honest and now with a dash of pure earnestness that’s as charming as a kitten playing a violin. The background strings play peekaboo with your ears, reminding you of the sweet simplicity of first love. And Giveon? He’s the reliable singer of sorrows, his baritone a cozy blanket for Ayra’s deep tones. Together, they’re like two peas in a pod, trying to persuade themselves that they’re done with the heartbreak rodeo.
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Amidst the star-studded duets and the grand pop anthems, The Year I Turned 21 truly shines when Ayra lets her vocals and songwriting take the spotlight. “21” is her heartfelt nod to Adele, a ballad that’s both introspective and spiced with playful Rihanna-like quips such as, “At my grown ass age, damn.” Then there’s “Orun,” arguably the album’s crown jewel, which blends the upbeat rhythms of highlife with raw, introspective lyrics about mental health and depression. Ayra reflects, “Every day feels the same, no frets for the morrow. Wished I hadn’t opened my eyes today, but hey, gotta brave my sorrow.”
The album’s finale, “The Kids Are Alright,” tugs at the heartstrings uniquely. It’s more of an audio scrapbook than a traditional song, pieced with voice notes from Ayra and her siblings as a tribute to their departed dad. Ayra’s mastery of the seemingly infinite riff on the final note of “Put in a good word for me” — hinting at her dad chatting with the Big Guy upstairs — fills the air with more than just sorrow. It’s a potent mix of grief, acceptance, and growth that only comes from embracing life’s tough breaks.
Ayra’s The Year I Turned 21 is a smooth sail with no dull moments. The 15-track lineup is just right, avoiding the dreaded album fatigue. However, the “Santa” track, featuring Rauw Alejandro and Rvssian, sticks out like a sore thumb. It’s not that “Santa” isn’t catchy, but it feels like a random detour off the album’s storyline highway, seemingly there just to rack up the streams, which is a bit of a letdown considering how well the rest of the album tells Ayra’s tale.
“The Year I Turned 21” masterfully strikes a balance that eludes many second albums. Ayra expands upon the intimate tone of her debut, bringing in new collaborators who significantly enhance her musical realm while staying true to her Afrobeats roots. Amidst a trend where numerous Afrobeats artists are distancing themselves from the genre, Ayra wholeheartedly accepts its heritage and current state, all the while carving out a future for the genre that’s boldly led by women.
