Alhanislam’s first number, “Five,” is more of a theatrical lecture than a song. The 1:11-minute monologue, which is delivered by spoken-word artist Maryam Bukar Hassan, sets the scene with angelic numbers and a prophetic flair, all of which support the main theme: five.
With Anything, Davido balances faith and panache. “No get time to sleep, leave pressure for the weak,” he asserts, before likening himself to biblical David confronting Goliath. At his best, Davido isn’t singing about cars or conquests, but conviction. That honesty threads through Be There Still, a gritty, grief-tinged tribute to his late three-year old son, where he confesses, “the pain brings out the best in me.” Here, he doesn’t just tell a story – he bleeds it.
Peaks and troughs
But not all that glitters is gospel. Titanium, his Chris Brown collaboration, lands like soggy toast – clichéd, sonically Westernised, and oddly divorced from any Nigerian musical DNA. It’s a reminder that in chasing global streams, something deeply African can get lost in translation. Davido certainly isn’t the only artist to fall victim to this, yet for someone once synonymous with hits like Skelewu and If, this polished blandness feels like a betrayal.
Of course, it wouldn’t be a Davido project without a nod – or several – to romance. But here, quantity overwhelms quality. Offa Me with Victoria Monét is a limp call-and-response that neither smoulders nor soothes. Lover Boy, despite featuring Francophone icons Tayc and Dadju, disintegrates under cringeworthy lyrics like “I got so many girls in my area,” resembling a forgotten SoundCloud demo more than grown songwriting.
Still, 5IVE has its peaks. Lately and With You offer welcome returns to Davido’s Nigerian core – raw, reflective, and steeped in spiritual overtones – the essence of David Adedeji Adeleke beneath the superstar veneer. Omah Lay’s animated performance and silky vocals in With You all but carry the album, while Davido wisely opts for a more grounded delivery.
And then there’s 10 Kilo, the chicken metaphor we didn’t know we needed. Playing on Nigerian market slang, the track is a flirty ode to plus-sized confidence, one of the album’s few genuinely light-hearted moments that still lands.
Identity crisis
The problem is that, in spite of its advantages, 5IVE occasionally feels like a stylistic identity crisis. It aims to be everything, including 3-Step, R&B, Afrobeats, and Amapiano, but in the process, it frequently becomes nothing. Davido has admitted to this conflict, saying in interviews that every production needs to “please our original fans” as well as “please the Western world and make money for the label.”
Holy Water, featuring Victony, the ninth tune, demonstrates this. It tries to baptize the listener in spirituality but stumbles over its own inconsistencies. It feels more like Saturday night than Sunday morning, complete with sensuous double-entendres and casual profanity.
In the end, 5IVE is a compromise as well as a victory. The story of a man who is grieving, growing up, and making money—sometimes all in one verse—is told. Regardless of what pulled you in—the memories, the success, or the rhythm—know that the Afrobeat titan is still very much in the game even though he may not be defeating Goliath this time.
