People often forget how young Lil Maina is. He’s only in his early twenties, but because he’s been part of Kenyan pop culture for almost a decade, he feels older than he is. Still, despite being in the public eye for years, he’s very much a developing artist, one just starting to treat music as a serious career, and not simply an extension of his online persona.
Two years after the release of his debut album Maisha Ya Stunna, Lil Maina returns with Sumbua.
In the grand scheme of things, two years is a very short amount of time, but for a human being, two years is enough time to change, grow, and become a different version of yourself. You can sort of feel this philosophy on Lil Maina’s sophomore album Sumbua. In this project, the Kenyan artist raps with an underlying confidence that wasn’t present in Maisha Ya Stunna. He is more aware of his status as a superstar in the music scene and all the pitfalls that come along with it. In the opening track ‘Sumbua’ he raps “ Wauliza nani, ni Mimi Stunna / Na kusumbua na sumbua sana”. It’s clear from the jump that Lil Maina has developed a more well rounded identity as an artist in the past two years.
The first three tracks of the album also show how much better the rapper has become technically. He wasn’t the most lyrically dexterous rapper before, granted he didn’t need to be, but you can tell how much better his penmanship has become here. On “Make Money” he floats on the beat like the legends of yesteryear, channeling the spirit of E-Sir at certain points, which gives the tape an unexpected nostalgic feel that would make most millenials do a double take.
Then we get to the most obvious feature of the album, “Mashallah” featuring Watendawili. The duo have been ubiquitous this year and it comes as no surprise they are featured here. The reggae inspired track is the standout on the album and it behooves me why this wasn’t the lead single. The collaboration provides a resting point from the high tempo and energy of the first three tracks and will definitely be in rotation once it gets some traction on radio and socials.
A LACK OF COHESIVENESS
Unfortunately, from here on, the album begins to lose its thread, each track pulling in a different direction. There really isn’t any continuity in production or thematic unity from this point on, with the rest of the songs feeling like standalone singles instead of building blocks within a curated body of work. Don’t get me wrong, the songs aren’t bad, in fact some of them are quite good if examined individually. “Desire” featuring Nikita Kering is a slow Afro-R&B track that burns slowly, drawing the listener in with a smoldering sensual energy. The track is a standout. “Push It” featuring Albeezy is a post-trap banger that gives the end of the album a burst of energy with another scene stealing verse from Albeezy. Still, every peak the album reaches seems to be met by an equal dip in its back half, high points shadowed by moments that don’t quite hold up.
Lil Maina reaches for his full vocal range here, with mixed results. At his best, he uses his voice like a mood board, stretching tempo, tone, and texture to build an atmosphere that feels distinctly his, something you don’t often hear Kenyan artists attempt with this kind of intent. The range itself is compelling, but it doesn’t always translate, such as on “Away,” the Afrohouse-leaning cut, where the aforementioned range slips entirely, landing as one of the album’s lowest moments. The track is an odd fit, with Lil Maina singing here, a stark difference from the album’s strongest stretches where he shows up as a rapper, sharp, present, and in control. The track doesn’t help itself either. The featured artist Ndovu Kuu drifts into a strained imitation of Winyo, and instead of adding character, ends up pulling you out of the song. If there’s one track this album can do without, it’s this one.
Everything, Everywhere
In Sumbua, Lil Maina wants us to believe he can do it all. Since the start of his career, the rapper has embraced a passion for rap of every possible variety. He likes to glide on top of cloud-rap beats, wax poetic over dancehall inspired drums, skip all over trap hi-hats, and show the depth of his personality on remixes of popular songs (Anyone remember Unamaliza Chapo Ngapi?) . He doesn’t just wear multiple hats; he stacks them on top of each other like he’s trying to start a viral challenge. His musical wanderlust seems great on paper and works decently in short bursts, but in practice, and particularly on this album, he comes across like someone creating a playlist: tons of options, very little cohesion.
At the end of it, the album feels more like a collection of singles meant to be well received on radio as singular tracks instead of a cohesive project. Granted, this is a great strategy at this point in his career, akin to Wizkid dropping Sounds From The Other Side before he dropped his magnum opus Made In Lagos. Casting such a wide stylistic net yields a few successes across the album. Lil Maina settles into a nice rhythm on “Calypso,” outpacing collaborator YBW Smith with a fast-paced verse about flexing through it all and speaking down on his opps.
Some of the strongest moments on “Sumbua” are attributed to the guests. Albeezy slides in with a verse delivered with ease and that instantly lifts the record while Nikita Kering’s poise, melody, and silky vocal control adds emotional weight where the album can sometimes drift.
Judging from the first half of the album only, Sumbua is a better effort than his previous record, This new album is a tasting menu of an album that doesn’t stray too far from the artist’s original ethos. After all, he is a viral hitmaker at heart. Looking at the album in whole, however, there’s not a huge amount of sonic growth here, and even at his tender age, the established Lil Maina runs the risk becoming old news just like his fellow self-starters of the Arbantone/Gengetone revolution such as Ethic and Boondocks gang.
“Sumbua” introduces a more mature Lil Maina, an artist who seems clearer about who he is and what he wants to say. The growth is real, even if the album doesn’t always know how to hold it together; the voice is emerging, but the cohesion hasn’t caught up yet. Still, in the flashes where he lets the music do the talking, where he steps out from the shadow of the public figure, you can hear him becoming himself. And that, more than anything, makes it compelling to watch him evolve in real time.
