In the years following the success of “Made in Lagos”—an album that not only solidified Wizkid’s place at the top of Afropop but also introduced a new sonic era that blended his signature Afrobeat groove with smooth R&B elements—his next move seemed inevitable. “Made in Lagos” was a cultural moment. Aside from the commercial success, it was a breath of fresh air that redefined what global recognition for African music could look like. From “Essence” to “Ginger,” the album carried a universal appeal that resonated with a diverse audience, offering both escapism and introspection in equal measure. But when Wizkid released “More Love, Less Ego” in 2022, it was clear that the magic of Made in Lagos wasn’t easily replicable.
While “More Love, Less Ego” had its moments, it lacked the same force and impact. The album dropped at a time when Asake, with his signature Amapiano-infused sound and choral delivery, had dominated the Afropop scene entirely, giving rise to a new wave of sound that left Wizkid’s usual vibe feeling somewhat disconnected. It wasn’t just the timing that affected the album’s reception, though. The year 2022 was a year of heavy experimentation across genres, and while ‘More Love, Less Ego” had moments of brilliance, it was often caught between the push for global appeal and the pull of staying authentic to his roots. It wasn’t bad music by any means—it just didn’t connect in the same visceral way his previous work did. The year, in retrospect, was a transitional one for Wizkid.
Then came August 2023 and the death of Wizkid’s mother, a profound loss that would shift his entire perspective. The grief was palpable. For someone who had shared so much of his journey with his fans, this personal tragedy gave Wizkid a different lens through which to view his life and career. In December 2023, he released S2, a short EP quickly gaining massive love. It was intimate, raw, and reflective like the collaboration with Zlatan on “IDK” S2 was a glimpse of what was to come: an artist in mourning yet still striving to channel that grief into music.
When Wizkid later announced “Morayo” as an album dedicated to his late mother, Wizkid made it clear that it was an offering from the heart. Just as anticipation built for the album, Wizkid took to social media to make a bold statement: he was stepping away from the “Afrobeats” label, something that caused an immediate stir across the internet. The post was short but potent, sending shockwaves through a music scene already rife with competition. The buzz around Morayo intensified, especially when a Twitter feud erupted between Wizkid and Davido—two giants of the Nigerian music industry who have long been the subject of comparisons. Some speculated that this public exchange of insults was part of a larger marketing strategy, aimed at creating tension and driving attention toward the new album. Whether intentional or not, it worked. The album’s release in November came with the weight of both anticipation and controversy, a reflection of Wizkid’s own journey of self-redefinition.
Morayo is a product of this complex web of emotions and moments. With P2J—a producer Wizkid has had a long-standing creative partnership with—handling the majority of the album’s production, Morayo feels like a continuation of the sonic exploration that began with his 2017 “Sounds From the Other Side” album and was refined on “Made in Lagos”. Yet, Morayo is different. It’s not the same starry-eyed wanderer of his past projects, but rather a man who has seen both the heights of success and the depths of personal loss. The album moves between escapism and reflection, joy and sorrow, but always remains tethered to the core of Wizkid’s essence.
The album opens with the voice of Fuji legend Kwam 1, a powerful callback to the Yoruba cultural roots that influence much of Wizkid’s music. This opening sets the stage for what is, in many ways, a hybrid album—one that blends the Afropop influence Wizkid has become synonymous with alongside his neo-R&B tendencies and the percussive elements integral to his heritage.
“Karamo” opens with a voice that sets the stage, soon punctuated by piano chords and percussion, all wrapped in the smooth texture of saxophone—creating a track built for the dancefloor. Tracks like “Bad Girl,” a collaboration with Asake, carry the familiar Afrobeat bounce. On “Après Minuit,” featuring French rapper Tiakola, the track finds Wizkid flexing his multilingual abilities and his knack for blending different genres effortlessly, but in all, Tiakola’s verse is a standout verse on the song. Before the album even dropped, “Kese (Dance)” had already garnered attention, thanks to its heavy percussion and infectious rhythm, driven by the talking drums that give it a cultural edge. It’s no surprise it captured the TikTok dance craze. “Soji” and “Bend” follow in the same vein as “Kese,” their grooves and danceable rhythms making it clear that Wizkid has crafted this album for the feet as much as for the soul.
A Million Blessings,” “Don’t Care,” and “Lose” stand out as pivotal moments on Morayo, where Wizkid takes stock of his journey. He catalogues his victories while giving thanks to God for laying the foundation of everything he’s accomplished. The album closes with “Pray”, the song which feels like the album’s emotional climax. A poignant reminder of the deep bond between mother and son and the lasting influence she continues to have on his life.
For all its grooves and melodies, Morayo is Wizkid’s love letter to his mother, his legacy and his roots. It’s a declaration of his place in Afropop’s history but also a reclamation of his own personal narrative. It’s an artist finding his voice after loss, reclaiming his sound, and showing a side of himself that has often been obscured by his global success. Morayo is as much about the music as it is about the man who created it.
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As the final notes of Morayo fade, it’s clear that this is a new chapter for Wizkid, one where he’s finally allowed to rest in the legacy of his roots and the love of his mother. The journey that began with Superstar and reached its zenith with Made in Lagos has come full circle and in Morayo Wizkid has crafted a work that feels both deeply personal and universally resonant. This is his moment, defined by grief, love, and an unshakable drive to continue evolving as an artist. And when he sings in “Pray,” “Mama call me, Ayo Balogun, they can never find another you,” we hear him and we agree—because there will never be another Wizkid.
