On Paradise Now, Obongjayar invites us to create our paradise in the present, recognising that much of the work of doing that depends on the ‘self’.
By John Eriomala
One of the many mysteries of our world is that an album named after the Abrahamic afterlife can capture the nuances of personhood better than others with direct titular references to the human condition. But I digress. This isn’t about titles. It’s about Obongjayar’s Paradise Now.
Released on 30th May 2025, via September Recordings, Paradise Now is London-based Nigerian-born artiste, Steven ‘Obongjayar’ Umoh’s sophomore album. It’s a 15-track letter to the ‘self’, with admonitions on identity and truthfulness, the different phases of (self)love, and finding expression in defiance.
Over kaleidoscopic production that spans grungy Afrobeat (“Sweet Danger”), post-disco funk (“Not in Surrender”), baile funk (“Holy Mountain”), and soul (“Moon Eyes”), Obongjayar unpacks the intricacies of the human condition, with performances that solidify the ethos of the voice as the ultimate musical instrument.
He sings about, and with, angst, drawing from his experiences and sticking it to the politics of the day at intervals. The subject matter is far from being new ground for the critically acclaimed singer-songwriter. However, on this project, he delivers with a sense of musical maturity, tapping into old and new sounds alike for what can also be described as an instructional manual for the children of the internet.
Across Paradise Now’s 46-minute runtime, Obongjayar’s words are measured and deliberate, even when playful. On the electro-heavy album opener, “It’s Time”, we are drawn into the conversation by the lyrics, “I walk the world with my head on a swivel/ It’s hard to trust anything”, before he proceeds to vent on the nuances of hurt and pain as he sings, “It’s time [to] pick up the pieces”. Profound lyricism–for the emotions evoked, as well as the sheer poetic beauty–is a defining feature of this record. It’s a feature offset slightly by abstraction, as with the Kwes Darko-produced “Prayer” (“God’s song, I’m not chosen [but] I belong here”).
There’s a sense of thoughtfulness and poise that pervades Paradise Now. It’s woven into cascading second verses on the percussion-driven “Peace in Your Heart”, which describes a strained relationship with a distrusting partner, and the funk-laden “Not in Surrender”, where divine acclamations accentuate subtle hedonism. There are a few shallow moments, as with “Jellyfish” (the lyric “Black on all sides, my heart is watermelon” leans so far into satire that it debases). Still, these missteps are few and far between, making the entire effort unfold beautifully. Obongjayar makes up for these slips by addressing the war-mongering of imperialist USA: “Bomb bomb bomb bomb falling from the skies/ Bomb bomb spawned by the stars and the stripes”.
In a time when much of the counterculture is stuck on looking the part of revolutionaries with no regard for the accompanying politics, Obongjayar stays the course. The Little Simz-assisted “Talk Olympics” could very well have been directed at peers on the Alternative scene whose artistry challenges nothing.
On this record, deft storytelling waltzes seamlessly with Nigerian pop culture verbiage as Obongjayar voices out cross-generational concerns; beauty standards, isolation, the performance of lust–he’s the unapologetic lothario on “Sweet Danger”, a euphonious Afrobeat homage that has this troubadour from Atekong channelling Elvis and Fela at the same time: “Let me taste your sugar, Ikebe super”.
In the stretch of the final four songs, Obongjayar zones into a deeper sense of perspective, evidenced by the standout “Born in this Body”, a ballad extolling body positivity. He croons: “Six years old standing in the front room, told my Grandma I’m ugly/She sat me down with a smile on her face, said you’re worried about the wrong things”.
Sonically, Paradise Now boasts a diverse, colourful palette similar to his 2022 debut, Some Night I Dream Of Doors, which, bar one track, was completely helmed by Barney Lister. But unlike his debut, rock and electro-pop form the core of this offering, the former providing some scaffolding for primordial meltdowns–think “Instant Animal”.
As if to espouse this idea of self with due emphasis, Obongjayar harnesses falsettos and the earnestness of his raspy vocals to fervent effect, conjuring ideas like the tangibility of romance (“Moon Eyes”), tunnel-vision affection, and tambourines tying together abstract declarations of faith (“Prayer”). He is an artiste well aware of his vocal prowess, wearing his influences boldly, yet sounding fresh.
The Abrahamic paradise had better be marked by guitar-strumming as riveting as the ones we find on this project. There appeared to be intentional efforts to work the guitar in at every turn, despite the diversity of producers, perhaps born out of his preference for live recordings.
The outcome? Standout moments such as the piercing electric guitar solo from 2:15 to the end on “Instant Animal” and the sultry Spanish guitar-laced “Strong Bone”, provide soft landings for his signature howls. Not that other instruments lacked moments, but even the mara-punk madness of a “Talk Olympics” required subtle bass guitar pulses.
A drawback of the beautiful production on this project is its track listing: the sequencing is often jarring, so first listens might be arduous. It’s this sequencing that might create the notion of bulkiness, despite being just six minutes longer than his debut LP. Ultimately, the music bears enough soul to power to the finish line and requests multiple revisits
Overall, we have an exceptional body of work—part mirror, part guide, all in the here and now. Obongjayar invites us to create our paradise in the present, recognising that much of the work of doing that depends on the ‘self’. We should listen.
Lyricism – 1.7
Tracklisting – 1.2
Sound Engineering – 1.7
Vocalisation – 1.6
Listening Experience – 1.6
Rating – 7.8/10
John Eriomala is a culture journalist from Nigeria who’s currently a fifth-year medical student at the University of Ibadan. He writes primarily on Nigerian music, sometimes on film and stage plays, and to an increasing extent, literature. His essays focus on society and the human condition, often from a first-person perspective. John is a six-time Union of Campus Journalists, University of Ibadan (UCJ UI) awardee, including a 2025 Overall Best Campus Journalist win, and a 2024 Youth Digest Campus Journalism awardee. His works have appeared in The Republic, Lagos Review, WeTalkSound, and NATIVE Magazine. He’s an alumnus of the 2025 SprinNG writing fellowship. When he’s not writing, reading creative non-fiction and pop culture essays, or debating, you can find him listening to Nigerian hip-hop. He tweets @iquivoid, IG: @yovbino. If it’s serious, send an email to eriomalajohn6@gmail.com.