The funky jazz-soul influence is core to Masego’s music – his identity even. Hailing from a proud Jamaican and African heritage, it is ever-present throughout this selection as he leans on a cool, breezy production and his unique sonic delivery rooted in neo-soul and R&B.
As he traverses through the pitfalls of fame – and a noticeable lack of fortune, as seen in “Sax Fifth Avenue” (“I got 14 dollars in my wallet / Open my case up, ‘cause I aint ballin yet) – Masego revels in a hungry yet confident mindset, exuding a humbleness that is derived from insecurity. “I don’t see the point in being famous / Don’t think I wanna be famous no more,” he declares as he scrutinizes the modern idea of fame, pointing to black culture as the “tastemakers” and “pushing the needle” in a Marcus Garvey-esque plea.
It’s evident that as he ages, Masego is still lost in his identity, and admitting that is the first step to growth. In the reminiscent “Remembering Sundays,” a surprising reprieve from the soul and dipping a toe into rap, he solemnly sings “when the world was / something large and strange,” putting into perspective the effect his fame has had on the innocence of his childhood, once filled with the Baudelaire twins and playing outdoors. Introspection alone makes this album worth the listen but its focus often strays, taking the time to crucify love and women, most poignantly on “Afraid of Water” as he thoroughly decimates a “shallow” woman. At times, he misses the mark entirely, coming across as corny by revelling in odd misogynoir or just plain and repetitive tracks.
The lows of this album are simply forgettable but are stubbornly and headscratchingly rebutted with the euphoria of its best songs which lean on simpler production and addicting choruses. “You Never Visit Me” is peak Masego in a toxic yet comical skit followed by this ode to his newly declared ex. He glides effortlessly along to a neo-soul, funk selection as he wails “You never visit me / you never come and see me,” in front of a restaurant, leading to a begrudging acceptance of fame and grateful reflection in “Eternal Sunshine.”
If you can get past a cheesy interpolation of “Cha-Cha Slide” in the intro you will find Masego’s most cohesive and complete body of work yet and perhaps the new face of neo-soul and funk music.
