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 former 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.
Across a generous 18 tracks, Born in the Wild has the feel of a sprawling mood board, incorporating the undercurrent of Tems’ Christian faith, the melismatic cadences that mirror her fluctuating self-assurance, and refrains that blur affirmation and rumination. Her artistry is undeniable, though the album could’ve benefitted from a focused edit. The interludes, featuring snippets of her mother and managers, could have been pared back, or perhaps omitted. Afrobeats heavyweight Sarz produces “Get It Right,” a fun amapiano feature with Asake, but the song’s commercial sheen disrupts the album’s studied chiaroscuro. J. Cole’s verse on “Free Fall” also under-delivers; I would’ve much preferred Tems’ 2023 single “Not an Angel,” another Sarz production that surprisingly didn’t make the cut.
Born in the Wild, much like Tems the artist, is a slow burn that rewards patience. Closer “Hold On” sounds like the light at the end of the tunnel. “This is for the girl in the dark,” she sings, her voice now bathed in sun. “You’re gonna find it, it’s gonna find you…it’s the one in you.” In her past EPs, Tems ran from the darkness. On Born in the Wild, she makes peace with its permanence.
